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ftHL&CTlCAii MORALITY, 

OR, A GUIDE TO MEN AND MANNERS; 

>COKSISTiNG OF 

LORD CHESTERFIELDS { I } 

ADVICE TO H2S SOH. 

TO WHICH IS ADDED, 

A SUFPIiESIE&T 

Containing Extracts from variou* Rooks, recommended 
by Lord Chesterfield. to Lfr. S^nhope. 

TOGETHER WITH 

THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER? 

2©r, An Essay on tke Art which makes a Man happy is 
himself, and agreeable to others : 

Bit, BLAIR'S ADVICE TO YOUTH; 

©R. FORDYCE ON HONOUR AS A PRINCIPLE,; 

.LORD RURGHLEY'S TEN PRECEPTS TO 
HIS SON; 

3>R. FRANKLIN'S WAY TO WEALTH^ 

AND 

POPE'S UNIVERSAL PRAYER. 

HARTFORD: 
S. ANDRUS AND SOU. 






atft 



liar. 19, 1929 



-eS 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



The very flattering reception whicn tne tollow- 
ing work experienced from the Public, through 
seven successive editions, has encouraged the Edi- 
tor to enlarge the plan, and thus render the piece 
of more extensive utility. 

The abilities of Lord Chesterfield, to inculcate 
such precepts as should form the mind and fashion 
the manners of youth, are too universally admired 
to need encomium. In the Advice of that noble 
Earl to his Son, there are to be found such judicious 
remarks on men, manners, and things, connected 
with so intimate a knowledge of the world, that 
the sentiments, considered as maxims, form a very 
valuable system of education. 

But, as the observations of different writers oa 
the same subject are mutually illustrative of each 
other, to render the following work acceptable, a 
variety of Notes are subjoined, extracted from a 
small treatise on Politeness, entitled ' Galateo.' — 
This exquisite piece was written by the Archbishop 
of Benevento, in the sixteenth century, about the 
commencement of the reign of Queen Elizabeth , 
and it shows (as the English Translator observes) 
4 to wh%t & degree of refinement, both in manners 
and UteiatRje, the Italians were arrived, when we 
sv*re at a period just emerging from ignorance and 
barbauty.' Of ths treatise thus described it is only 



iv ADVERTISEMENT. 

necessary farther to add, that it has been transla- 
ted into Latin, as well as the modern languages , 
and so celebrated is the fame of the author, that, 
at this day, it is proverbial in Italy to pronounce of 
an ill-bred man, ' That he has not read Galateo.' 

Without intending the most distant imputation 
of plagiarism, it may be presumed that Lord Ches- 
terfield had this very book before him when he 
wrote his Letters to his Son. The reader who take9 
the trouble of comparing the extracts from Gala- 
teo, now subjoined, with the sentiments of the no- 
ble Earl, will most probably be of the same opinion. 

That nothing might be wanting to render the fol- 
lowing work complete, the Precepts of Lord Burgh- 
ley to his Son are added, as highly estimable on the 
subjects of manners and education. The most or- 
dinary sentiments of so dignified a character ac- 
quire weight ; but when a series of well-digested 
precepts, the result of great knowledge and exten- 
sive experience, are delivered for :h3 guidance of a 
son in the momentous concerns of life and happi- 
ness, the preceptor claims our esteem, and his 
opinions our reverence. 

To me pieceai:i£ editions of tMi woxk, the Mar- 
chioness de Lambert's Advice to her Son, and ths 
Moral Reflections of th$ Due de la Rochefoucdult, 
were annexed, although omitted to be noticed in 
the Preface. Tn^se pieces are continued m thfi 
present frdUion. £wt the difTiisive, and it is ho\)?d 
perk .-.jo*-:, sxtiscts frcm Galateo, together •vr'tth tut 
Precepts of Lird Bwghi«Y to his Son, and th^ ce- 
lebrated Dr. Franklin's Way to Wealth, the I*tto> 
of which is now, for the third fan*, hntcecue^d as 
part of this work, afford so coj rous an improve- 
ment as to give novelty and »'J«l»tion&i vajtw» to 



ADVERTISEMENT. # 

this edition. Should the Public be of the same 
opinion, the expectation of the Editor will be ari- 
ply gratified. So much depends on education, that 
scarcely too much can be advanced on the subject; 
and ever, if it should fail of success, an effort to 
benefit the rising generation is highly honourable, 
and affords that self- approving hour which is the 
test reward of cvsry well-meant endeavour. 

With regard to the Polite Philosopher, it may 
yet be necessary to add that it was printed origi- 
nally at Edinburgh (IV'?4), and a part of the edition 
jcent up to London, The roveity cf the title, and, 
to say truth, of the performance itself, for it is 
written in a manner never before made use of in 
our language, recommended it to some, and pre- 
judiced it in the opinion of others ; but time, which 
is the touchstone of such productions, did justice 
to the work, and at last procured it an esteem, not 
only here, but abroad. 

The intent of the author was to make men asham- 
ed of their vices, by showing them how ridiculous 
they were made by them, and how impossible it was 
for a bad man to be polite. It may be gn ver books 
have been written on this subject, but few more to 
the point ; its author being equally skilled in books 
and in men, in the dead languages and the living; 
and his observations will be generally found true, 
and his maxims just 



LOUD CHESTEKMEJ.IK'S 

ADVICE TO HIS SON. 



ABSENCE OF MIND. 

An absent mar* is generally either a very weak 
or a vzry affected man; he is, however, a very dis- 
«£r3eable man m company. He is defective in all 
the common offices of civility ; he does not enter 
into the general conversation, but breaks into it 
fr<?m time to time with some starts of his own, as 
if he waked from a dream. He seems wrapped 
tip in thought, and possibly does not think at all : 
he does not know his most intimate acquaintance 
by sight, or answers them as if he were at cross 
purposes. Hrt leaves his hat in one room, his cane 
in another, and would probably reave his shoes in 
a third, if his buckles, though awry, did not save 
them. This is a sure indication, either of a mind 
so weak that it cannot bear above one object at a 
time, or so affected, that it would be supposed to be 
wholly engrossed by some very great and important 
objects. Sir Isaae Newton, Mr. Locke, and, per- 
haps, five or six more since the creation, may have 
had a right to absence, from the intense thought 
their investigations required ; but such liberties 
cannot be claimed by, nor will be tolerated in, any 
ether persons. 

No man is in any degree fit for either business or 
conversation, who does not command his attention 
to the present object, be it what it will. When I 



2 ABSENCE OF MINI*. 

see a man absent in mind, I choose to be absent iw 
body ; for it is almost impossible for me to stay in? 
the room, as I cannot stand inattention and awk- 
wardness. 

I would rather be in company with a dead man, 
than with an absent one ; for if the dead man af- 
furds me no pleasure, at least he shows me no con- 
tempt ; whereas the absent man very plainly, though 
silently, tells me that he does not think me worth 
his attention. Besides, an r.bsent man can never 
make any observations upon the characters, cus- 
toms, and manners of *he company. He may be 
in th<* best companies all his lifetime (if they would 
admit hira), and never become the wiser : — we may 
as well converts with a deaf man, as an absent 
one. It is Inde3d a practical blunder to address 
ourselves to a man who, wc plainly perceive, nei- 
ther hears, minds, nor understands us.* 

* It -s very unpolite to appe?r melancholy and thought- 
ful, and, as it were, absent from the company wfeero yon 
a>t», and wrapt up in your own reflections : ar.d though, 
perhaps, this may be a!io*vable in those who for many 
years have been entirety immersed in the study and ors- 
i;r"jio'a£Jo^ of the liberal aris :a>.d sciences, yet, in oLher 
p«3jple, this is by m means %n be tolerated. Nay, such 
}\i.-v?r:S would ?.c* but pruienV/, if at those seasons when 
they ire dispos -d *o ia&ulga tUtir own private medita- 
Upns ; the/ would s?niest:;r themselves entirely from the 
coxian/ of ©Slier people. 

To 1 hid it may be added (by the way), that a well-bred 
nan ought to eheck a disposition to gaping frequently , 
because this yawning propensity teems to arise frwi a 
cenain weakness and disgust; when iht person., who is 
thus disposed to be gaping continually, m&tii to be some* 
where else rather than where he now is ; and therefor* 



s 

ATTENTION 

A man is fit for neither business not pleasure, 
who either cannot, or does not, command arm di- 
rect his attention to the present object, and in some 
degree banish, for that time, ail other objects from 
his thoughts. If at a ball, a supper, or a party ol 
pleasure, a man were to be solving in his own 
mind a problem in Euclid, he would be a very bar) 
companion, and make a poor figure in that compa- 
ny; or if, in studying a problem in his closet, he 



appears sick of the conversation and amusements of the 
present company. 

And, certainly, let a man be ever so much inclined to 
gaping, yet, if he is intent upon any agreeable amuse- 
ment, or engaged in any serious meditation, he easily 
gets rid of this propensity : but he who is idle and disen- 
gaged from all business, this habit is eslremcly apt t© 
creep upon him. Hence it comes to pass, that if ary one 
person happens to gape in company, who have nothing 
else to engage their attention, all the rest uTi-a'ly fpHow 
his example ; as if he had put tkcm in mind of doing 
what, if they had thought of it, they othenviio intended 
to have done. Nw, as in the Latin and achsi languages 
a yawning feiiow is synonymous or equivalent to a negli- 
gent and sluggish feiiow, this idle custom ought certt inly 
to be avoided; being (as was observed) disagreeable to 
the r'ffhi, offensive to the ear, and comraxy ais*j lo that 
natui •?.•: claim which every one has to respect. For witea 
we indulge ourselves in this listless behaviour, we r A 
only Lufinrate that the company we are in does uoLgt eat 
Iy pLise us, but also mat*, a discovery not very advcita- 
geous to ourselves; I mejeft, that w* sire of a drowsy, 
lethargic disposition , which must render u* by &c mean* 
amiable or pleasing to those witn whom we have con- 
verse. — GaUin, 

A 2 



4 ATTENTIOxN. 

<.\.re to think of a minuet, I am apt to believe that 
he would make a very poor mathematician. 

There is time enough for ever} 7 thing in the course 
of the day, if you do but one thing at once : but 
there is not time enough in the year, if you will 
do two things at a time. 

This steady and undissipated attention to one 
object is a sure mark of a superior genius; as 
hurry, bustle, and agitation, are the never-failing 
symptoms of a weak and frivolous mind. 

Indeed, without attention, nothing is to be done : 
want of attention, which is really want of thought, 
is either folly or madness. You should not only 
have attention to every thing, but a quickness of 
ettention, so as to observe at once all the people in 
the room, their motions, their looks, and their 
words ; end yet without staring at them, and seem- 
ing to be an observer. This quick and unobserved 
observation is of infinite advantage in life, and is 
to be acquired with care ; and, on the contrary, 
what is called absence, which is a thoughtlessness 
and wsu>t of attention about what is doing, makes 
p.rnar. so Yika either a fool or madman, that, for nry 
part, I 22*s no real dhference. A sool never has 
though; a madman hug lost it; and an absent 
mt.2 ii, for ths time* without it. 

In short, uie most material knowledge ci all, 
I moan the knowledge of the world, is never to be 
acqui *ed wiUiout great attention ; s.nd I kjicw many 
old p«orn?, who, though they hare lived long in the 
world, ays but children still as to tha knowledge oi 
it, from thsir levity said inatteatiaa. Certain forms, 
whicfe ai). people comply with, and cuitain aru, 
™hich all people am- at, hide in some degree ths 
truth, and give a general exterior resembls.ice fa 



ATTENTION. j 

almost every body. Attention and sagacity must 
see through that veil, and discover the natural cha- 
racter. 

Add to this, there are little attentions which are 
infinitely engaging, and which sensibly affect that 
degree of pride and self-love which is inseparable 
from human nature; as they are unquestionable 
proofs of the regard and consideration which we 
have for the persons to whom we pay them. As 
for example: Suppose you invited any body to 
dine or sup with you, you ought to recollect if you 
had observed that they had any favourite dish, and 
take care to provide it for them : and when it came, 
you should say, * You seemed to me. at such and 
such a place, to give this dish a preference, and 
therefore I ordered it. This is the wine that I obser- 
ved you liked, and therefore I procured some.' — 
Again; Most people have their weaknesses: they 
have their aversions or their likings to such or such 
things. If we were to laugh at a man for his aver- 
sion to a cat or cheese (which are common antipa- 
thies,) or by inattention or negligence to let them 
come ra bis way, where we could prevent it, he 
would, in the first c^ss, think himself insulted, and, 
in the second, slighted ; and would remember both. 
But, on the other hand, our care to procure for him 
what he likes, end tc remove from him what he dis- 
likes, shows him that he is at least an object c-f our 
attention, fk.tt^rs his vanity, and perhaps m:kes 
him more your frfs&d i.h';:i a mors important ser- 
vice would hive dene. Ths mere fiiirg these 
things arc, &e more they prove your attention for 
the person, said srs consequently the more engaging. 
Consult your own breast, and recollect hcr> these 
little attentions, when shown you by others, flattei 



6 AWKWARDNESS. 

tVat degree of self love and vanity, from which no 
man living is free. Reflect how they incline and 
attract you to that person, and how you are propi- 
tiated afterward to all which that person says or 
does. The same causes will have the same effect 
in your favour. 

AWKWARDNESS OF DIFFERENT KINDS. 

Many very worthy and sensible people have cer- 
tain odd tricks, ill habits, and awkwardness in their 
behaviour,* which excite a disgust to and dislike of 

* A gentleman ought not to run or walk in too great a 
hurry along the streets ; for it is beneath the dignity of 
a person of any rank, and more becoming a running foot- 
man or a post-boy; besides that, in running, a man ap- 
pears fatigue'!, perspires freely, and puffs and blows ; all 
which ar? rsisbecoimng a man of any consequence. 

Nor vet ought ci*r px.ee to be so ve^ slow and tortoise- 
like, nor so stately exd affected, like that of some lady 
of quality or a bride. 

To stagger, likewise, or to totter c!>;ut as we walk, 
and to st«-cv?h G-imelve? o'J.i, es it were, with monstrous 
strides, is focH:a and ridiculous. 

Neiobf? ;>nijkt ycur hands to hang dangling down ; nor 
yet your afias to be projected or lfc?3ei backwards and 
forwards, li%c > plougbaaan tL?.t is sowir? his corn. 

Neither sheila j&i state a niacin &e face wLcm you 
meet,vrhh j&ir eytste.G'l upon bin, as if yrz saw seme - 
thing vc woud3 T , tX in bis pgpesaraESfc 

There est $$m-e p**£pl&j iik(»v."b3, yii&T&Of. like a ti- 
morous jx Iliad horse, lifti^ up their ie=; so high, as if 
they v/cvio £ swing &&ia out of a"?:ushel; and some who 
stamj their ieet v?ith great violence stains*, the ground, 
and with a noise hardly exceeded by the ambling of a 
wagcu. One man throws his feet out ol;ii;; : ^iy f as if ho 
wer« kicking at you ; this man knocks cno *tnee against 
the other, or„ perhaps, stoops down at svery stej. *o pull 



AWKWARDNESS. 7 

\he\\' persons, that cannot be removed or overcome 
by any other valuable endowment or merit which 
they may possess. 

Now, awkwardness can proceed but from two 
causes: either from not having keptg:cd company, 
or from not having attended to it. 



up his stockings. There are some who, by an ir.dcc&r; 
motion of their rumps, have am nequal kind of gait like 
the waddling of a duck ; all which things, though not of 
much consequence, yet, being somewhat awkward and 
uugenteel, usually displease. 

There are others who have a habit of distending their 
jaws every moment, twisting in their eyes, inflating their 
~'\eJ ?, r uffirg, blowing, and many other inelegant ways 
r>i ^:sfi e uring their luces; from which, if they at all stu- 
died what was becoming, they would entirely abstain. 
For Pallas herself, as ihs foots feign, used sometimes to 
amuse herself with playisi? upon the pipe, in which she 
was arrived at no common degree of excellence : but as 
she was 0113 day very intent upon her amusement, she 
strolled to a fountain, where, surveying herself in the li- 
quid mirror, and observing the strange and monstrous 
appearance of her countenance, she blushed, and imme- 
diately threw away her pipe ; nor indeed without very 
good reason; foi these kind of wind-instruments are not 
fit for a lady, nor indeed for a gentleman, but for the low- 
er scrt of people ; who, through necessity, are obliged 
to practise it as a profession. 

'//hat is here said of this inelegant distortion of the 
race, is applicable to every other part of the human bo- 
c'.y. Il is ungenteel to be continually thrusting out your 
tcngr.e, or stroking up your beard, as many do; to smack 
your lingers or rub your hands ; ' to elaborate a sigh' with 
n peculiarly doleful sound (like people in a fever,) which 
many people are guilty of; or to affect a sudden shiver- 
ing over your whole body; or to bawl out when you are 
g-opiug, iike a country -fellow that has been sleeping in a 
uay-loiT;. — Gaiuics. 



8 AWKWARDNESS. 

When an awkward fellow first comes into a room, 
it is highly probable that his sword gets between 
his legs and throws him down, or makes him stum- 
ble at least; when he lias recovered this accident, 
he goes and places himself in the very place of the 
whole room where he should not; there he soon 
lets his hat fall down, and in taking it up again, 
throws down his cane ; in recovering his cane his 
hat falls the second time ; so that he is a quarter of 
an hour before he is in order again. If he drinks 
tea or coffee, he certainly scalds his mouth, and lets 
either the cup or the saucer fall, and spills the tea 
or coffee in his breeches. At dinner his awkward- 
ness distinguishes itself particularly, as he has more 
to do; there he holds his knife, fork, and spoon, 
differently from other people; eats with his knife 
to the great danger of his mouth, picks his teeth 
with his fork, and puts his spoon, which has been 
in his throat twenty times, into the dishes again. If 
he is to carve, he can never hit the joint : but in his 
vain efforts to cut through the bone, scatters the 
sauce in every body's face. Ke generally daubs 
himself with soup and grease, though his napkin 
sa oou;,.;cnIy stuck through a button-hole, and tic- 
kler his rkh . When he drinks, he infallibly coughs 
hi his glass, sjici besprinkles the company. Besides 
all thi,~, he has strange tricks and gestures ; sucn 
as snu'nug up Lis nose, making faces, putting his 
finger** in his ncs ), or blowing it and looking after- 
ward in his handkerchief, so as to make the com- 
pany si k. His hands are troublesome to him 
when heWs iot sjmelhing in them, and he does 
not know where to put them ; but they are in per- 
petual motion between his bosom and hte breech- 



AWKWARIJftESS. 9 

es;* be does not wear his clothes, and, in shor:> 
does nothing, like other people. AH this, I uwn, is 
not in any decree criminal: but it is highly disa- 
greeable and ridiculous in company, rjid ci'ght mosi 
carefully to be avoided by whoever desires to please. 
From this account of what you should not do, 
you may easily judge what you should do : and a 
due attention to the manners of people of fashion, 

* The habit which some people have got, of thrusting 
their hands iHto their bosoms, or handling any part of 
their persona which is uswally eovered, is an obvious ia- 
stancc of indecency, and very improper. 

In like manner, it is very unbecoming a well-bred 
man, and a gentleman, to m&ke any sort of preparation, 
in the presence of others, for complying with the neces- 
sities of nature; and much more so to return to his com- 
pany before he has completely adjusted every part of 
feis dress. 

There is a set of people extremely odious and trouble- 
some, who in their conversation with others, by their 
gestures and behaviour, are really guilty of a lie ; for 
though, by the confession of every one, the first, or at 
least a more honourable, place is justly due to them, yet 
Ihey perpetually seize upon the very lowest ; and it is 
an intolerable plague to force them up higher ; for, like 
a startlish or refractory horse, they are every moment 
running back ; so that, in a genteel company, there is an 
infinite deal of trouble with such people, whenever the} 
come to a door ; for they will by no means in the world 
be prevailed upon to go first, but run, sometimes across 
you, sometimes quite backwards, and with their hand3 
and arms defend themselves, and make such a bustle, 
that at every third stair you must enter iuto a regular 
contest with them ; by which means all the pleasure of 
your visit, or sometimes even the most important busj 
Ress, must be necessarily interrupted. — Galatea, 



It) BASHFULNESS. 

and who have seen the world, will make it habitual 
and familiar to you. 

There is, likewise, an awkwardness of expression 
and words most carefully to be avoided ; such ass 
false English, bad pronunciation, old sayings, and 
common proverbs ; which are so many proofs of 
having kept bad and low company. For example : 
If, instead of saying that * tastes are different, and 
that every man has his own peculiar one,' you 
should let off a proverb, and say, that * What is 
one man's meat is another man's poison j' or else, 
* Every one as they like, as the good man said when 
he kissed his cow ;' every body would be persuaded 
that you had never kept company with any body 
above footmen and housemaids. 

There is likewise an awkwardness of the mind 
that ought to be, and with care may be, avoided: 
as, for instance, to mistake or forget names. To 
sptak cf Mr. What-d'ye call Him, or Mrs. Thingum, 
or Kow-dVe-call Her, is excessively awkward 
and ordinary. To call people by improper titles, 
and appellations is so too 5 as My Lord, for Sir; 
?no. Sir for my Lord, To begin a story or narra- 
tion when you are not perfect in it, and cannot go 
tfcrough with it, but are forced, possibly, to say in 
ths middle of it, ' 1 have forgot the rest,' is very 
unpleasant and bungling. One must be extremely 
ciract; clo&r, and perspicuous, in ever/ thing one 
aciys ; otherwise; instead of entertaining cr inform- 
ing others, one only tires and puzzles them. 

BASHFULNESS. 

Ea8hfu c _n'-:^ is thi distinguishing character of an 
English booby, who appears ni^h^ned cut of hu 



BASHFULNESS. 11 

wits if people of fashion speak 10 him, and blush- 
es and stammers without being able to give a pro- 
per answer; by which means he becomes truly ri- 
diculous, from the groundless fear of being laugh- 
ed a!:. 

There is a very material uirTerence between mo- 
desty and an awkward basliftiiness, which is as ridi- 
culous as true modesty is commendable: it is as 
absurd to be a simpleton as to be an impudent fel- 
low ; and we make ourselves contemptible if wo 
o^nnoi come into a room and speak to people with- 
out being out of countenance, or without embar- 
rassment. A man who is really diffident, timid, and 
bashful, be his merit what w will, never can push 
himself in the world ; his despondency throws him 
into inaction, and the forward, the bustling, and 
the petulant, will always precede him. The man- 
ner n akcs the whole difference. What would be 
Impudence m one man, is only a proper and decent 
asruis.nce ia another. A man of sense, and of 
knowledge of the world, will assert his own rights 
and pursue his own objects, as steadily and intre- 
pidly as the most impudent man living, and com- 
monly more so ; but then he has art enough to give 
an outward air of modesty to all he does. This 
engages and prevails, whilst the very same things 
shock and (ail. from the overbearing or impudent 
manner only of doing them. 

Eii£ lishmen, in general, are ashamed of going 
rate companr. When wc avoid singularity, what 
should we be ashamed of? And why should not we 
go into a mixed company with as much ease, and 
as little concern, as we would go into our own 
room? Vice and ignorance are the only things we 
au&iit to be ashamed of: while wc keep clear of 
2 



IZ BASHFULNESS. 

them, we may venture any where without feaz oar 
concern. Nothing sinks a young man into low com- 
pany so surely as baskfulness. If he thinks that 
he shall not, he mast surely will not, please. 

Some, indeed, from feeling the pain and bxoii- 
veniencies of bashiulness, have rushed into the 
other extreme, and turned impudent ; as cowards 
sometimes grow desperate from excess of danger ; 
but this is equally to be avoided, there being nothing 
more generally shocking than impudence. The 
medium between these two extremes points out the 
well-bred man, who always it^ls himself firm and 
easy hi all companies ; who is modest without being 
bashml, and steady without being impudent. 

A mean fellow is ashamedVand embarrassed when 
he comes into company, is disconcerted when spo- 
ken to, answers with difficulty, and does not know 
how to dispose of his hands: but a gentleman who 
is acquainted with the world appsars in company 
with a graceful and proper assurance, and is per- 
fectly easy and unembarrassed. Re is not dazzled 
by superior rank ; he pays all the respect that is 
due to it, without being disconcerted ; and can con- 
verse as easily with a king as with any one of his 
subjects. This is the great advantage of being in- 
troduced young into good company, and of con- 
versing with our superiors. A well-bred man will 
converse with his inferiors without insolence, and 
with his superiors with respect and with ease. Add 
to this, that a man of a gentleman-like behavioui, 
though of inferior parts, is better received than a 
man of superior abilities, who is unacquainted with 
the world. Modesty and a polite easy assurance 
should be united. 



13 

COMPANY 

TO keep good company, especially at our first 
setting out, is the way to receive good impressions. 
Good company is not what respective sets of com- 
pany ar© pleased either to call or think themselves. 
It consists chiefly (though not wholly) of people of 
considerable birth, rank, and character; for people 
of neither birth nor rank are frequently and very 
justly admitted into it, if distinguished by any pecu- 
liar merit, or eminency in any liberal art or science. 
So motley a thing is good company., that many peo- 
ple, without birth, rank, or merit, intrude into it by 
their own forwardness, and others get ir.xo i*. by 
the protection of some considerable person. In 
this fashionable good company th«j best manners 
and the purest language arc most unquestionably 
to be learned; for they establish and give the Ton 
to both, which are called the language and manners 
of good company, neither of them being ascer- 
tained by any legal tribunal. 

A company of people of the first quality cannot 
be called good company, in the common accepta- 
tion of the phrase, unless they are the fashionable 
and accredited company of the place ; for people 
of the first quality can be as silly, as ill-bred, and as 
worthless, as people of the meanest degree. And 
a company consisting wholly of people of very low 
condition, whatever their merit or talents may be, 
can never be called good company ; and therefore 
should not be much frequented, though by no means 
despised. 

A company wholly composed of learned men, 
though greatly to be respected, is not meant by the 
verds pood company : they cannot have the easy 



14 COMPANY. 

and polished manners of the world, as they do not 
live in it. If we can bear our parts well in such a 
company, it will be proper to be in it sometimes, 
and we shall be more esteemed in other companies 
for having a place in that. 

A company consisting wholly of professed wits 
and poets, is very inviting to young men who are 
pleased with it, if they have wit themselves ; and, 
if they have none, are foolishly proud of being one 
of it. But such companies should be frequented 
with rcoderation and judgment. A wit is a very 
unpopular denomination, as it carries terror along 
w:*.h it • and people are as much afraid of a wit in 
company, as a woman is of a gun, which she sup- 
poses may go off of itself and do her a mischief. 
Their acquaintance, however, is worth seeking, and 
their company worth frequenting ; but not exclu- 
sively cf others, nor to such a degree as to be con- 
sidered only as one of that particular set. 

Above all things, endeavour to keep company 
with people above you ; for there you rise, as much 
as you sink with people below you. When I say 
company above you, I do not mean with regard to 
their birth, but with regard to their merit, and the 
light in which the world considers them. 

There are two sorts of good company : one, whhh 
is called the Beau monde, and consists of those peo- 
ple who have the lead in courts, and in the gay part 
of life ; the other consists of those who are distin- 
guished by some peculiar merit, or who excel in 
some particular or valuable art or science. 

Be equally careful to avoid that low company, 
which in every sense of the word, is low indeed; 
low in rank, low in parts, low in manners, and low 
in merit. Vanity, that source of many of our fol 



COMPANY 15 

lies, and some of our crimes, has sunk many a man 
into company ki every light infinitely below him, 
for the sake of being the first man in it. There he 
dictates, is applauded and admired ; but he soon 
disgraces himself, and disqualifies himself for any 
better company. 

Having thus pointed out what company you 
should avoid, and what company you should asso- 
ciate with, I shall next lay down a few 

Cautions to be observed in adopting the manners of 
a company. 

When a young man, new in the world, first gets 
into company, he determines to conform to and 
imitate it : but he too often mistakes the object of 
his imitation. lie has frequently heard the absurd 
term of genteel and fashionable vices. He there 
observes some people who shine, and who in gene- 
ral are admired and esteemed ; and perceives that 
these people are rakes, drunkardo, or gamesters; 
he therefore adopts their vices, mistaking their de- 
fects for their perfections, and imagining that they 
owe their fashion and their lustic to these genteel 
vices. But it is exactly the reverse ; for these peo- 
ple have acquired their reputation by their parts, 
their learning, their good-breeding, and other rssl 
accomplishments; and are only blemished and 
lowered in the opinions of all reasonable people by 
these general and fashionable vices. It is therefore 
plain that, in these mixed characters, the good part 
only makes people forgive, but not approve, the 
bad. 

If a man should unfortunately have any vices, 
he ought at least to be content with his own, and 



16 COMPANY. 

not adopt other people's. The adoption of vice 
has ruined ten times more young men, than natural 
inclinations. 

•Let us imitate the real perfections of tb* good 
company into which we may gtt ; copy Ihek po- 
liteness, their carriage, their address, and th^ir easy 
and well-bred turn of their cnnvsrr,?. .):•-? : but we 
should remember, that,lci them thin* rjr k ?:~bright, 
their vices, if they havcany, are so mc;:.y blemishes, 
which we should no more endeavour to imitate than 
we would make artificial warts upon cur faces be- 
cause some very handsome m?Ji l-.:d the misfor- 
tune to have a natural one upon Lii We should, 
on the contrary, think how much handsomer he 
would have been without it. 

Having thus given you instructions for making 
you well received in good company,* I proceed 

* Rules fir behaviour in company. 

Rcili'zz ought to be said or done which may 07 a \y 
Ms*, .a, J.scover, that those whose company we are in are 
not much beloved, or, at least, much esteemed by us. 

It should seem, therefore, not a very decent custom 
(wlkich yet is practised by some people,) to affect to be 
drowsy, and even fall asleep (on purpose as it were,) 
where a genteel company is met together for their mu- 
tual entertainment; for, certainly, those that behave in 
this manner declare, in effect, tha- they do not much es- 
tee:~. these who are present, o- pay any regard to their 
j.^. r t.j.:a "on ; *n; »,}menti-3, that something may hap- 
pen :"n „kei'sloir, (is.jjially if they are any ways in 
i : sp: r .:d) l.w.i'x./ ^.^ isagreeable either to the eyes or 
the ears of the company : for one often sees in such sleepy 
folks the sweat run down their faces, or their saliva down 
their beards, in no very decent manner. 

For the same reason, it is rather a troublesome prac 



RULES FOR CONVERSATION. 17 

next to lay hefore you, what you will find of equal 
use and importance in your commerce with the 
world, some directions, or 

RULES FOR CONVERSATION. 

Talking. 
WHEN you are in company, talk often, but ne- 

tice for anyone to rise tip m an assembly thus conversing 
tog-ether, and to walk about the room. 

You meet with some people, likewise, who are conti- 
nually wriggling and twisting themselves about ; stretch- 
ing; and gaping, and turning themselves sometimes on one 
side, sometimes ou another, as if they were seized with 
a sudden fever; which is a certain indication that they 
are tired and disgusted with their present company. 

lu like manner, they act very improperly who pull out 
of their pockets first one letter, then another, and read 
them before tie company. 

And much worse does he behave, wlio, taking out his 
ecisc-rs or his penknife, sets himself, with great compo- 
sure, to cut and polish his nails } as if he had an utter 
contempt for those that arc present, and therefore, to de- 
ceive the time, was endeavouring to amuse himself in 
some otlier manner. 

We ought also carefully to abstain from those little 
wavs which are much in use, of humming a tune to our- 
selves, imitating the beating of a drum with our finger* 
upon a table, or kicking out our feet alternately in an in- 
solent manner ; for these are all indications of our con- 
tempt for others. 

Moreover, it is by no means decent to sit in such a 
manner as either to turn our backs upon any part of the 
company, or to lift up our legs so as to discover to the 
eyes of others those parts of the body which are usually 
concealed ; for we never act thus but in the presence of 
those for whose good opinion we have not the least 
regard. — GalaUo 



18 RULES FOR CONVERSATION. 

verlong; in that case, if you do not please, at least 
you are sure not to tire your hearers.* 

* There are many persons who never know whon to 
leave off prating; and, like a ship which, once put in mo- 
tion by the force of the winds, even when the sails are 
furled, will not stop, — so these loquacious people, being 
carried on by a certain impulse, continue their career ; 
and : though thoy have nothing to talk of, they neverthe- 
less proceed ; and either inculcate over and over again- 
what they have already said, or utter at random what- 
ever comes uppermost. 

There are also some people who labour under so great 
and insatiable an appetite for talking, that they will in- 
terrupt others when they are going to speak ; and as we 
sometimes sec, on a farmer's dunghill in the country,, 
young chickens snatching grains of corn out of each 
other's little bills, so these people caich up the discourse 
out of the mouth of another, who has begun speaking, 
and immediately hold forth themselves - t which is so pro- 
voking to some people, that they would rather interchange- 
blows than words wkh then*, and rather fight than con- 
verse with them ; for, if vom accurately observe the hu- 
mours of mankind, there i." nothing which sooner, op 
more certainly, provokes a man, than the giving a sudden* 
eheck to his desires and inclinations, evsu in the most- 
trifling affair. 

Now, as aa iramcdc.'aie loquacitj, cr love of talking, 
gives disgus*. so t?i great a tr ckurni'y, or an affected, 
silence, is very disagreeably far t>cHerve a haughty 
silence, where others take their tuin lu\ the conversation,, 
seems tabe nothing false than unwillingness to contribute 
your share to the common entertainment : and as to speak 
is to open your mind, as it were, to those that hear you, 
he, on the contrary, who is entirely silenV seems to shu»- 
all acquaintance with the rest of the company. Where- 
fore, as those people who, at their entertainments on any 
joyful occasion, drink freely, and perhaps get drunk, love, 
to get rid of people who will not drink, so no one desirr* 



RULES FOR CONVERSATION. 19 

Learn the characters of the company before you 
talk much. 

Inform yourself of the characters and situations 
Df the company before you give way to what your 
pagination may prompt you to say. There are 
in all companies more wrong heads than right ones, 
and many more who deserve, than who like, cen- 
sure. Should you therefore expatiate in the praise 
of some virtue, which some in company notoriously 
want, or declaim against any vice which others are 
notoriously infected with, your reflections, however 
general and unapplied, will, by being applicable, be 
thought personal, and levelled at those people. 
This consideration points out to you sufficiently not 
to be suspicious and captious yourself, nor to sup- 
pose that things, because they may, are therefore 
meant at, you. 

Telling stories and digressions. 

Tell stories very seldom, and absolutely never 
but where they are very apt, and very short. Omit 
every circumstance that is not material, and beware 
of digressions. To have frequent recourse to narra- 
tive, betrays great want of imagination.* 

to see these silent gentry in their cheerful, friendly meet- 
ings : the most agreeable society, therefore, is that where 
every one is at liberty to speak or keep silence in his 
turn. — Galatea. 

*If you have a mind to relate any thing in company, 
it is proper, before you begin, to have the whole story, 
whether a piece of history or any late occurrence, well 
settled in your mind ; as also, every name and expres- 
sion ready at hani, that you may not be obliged «yerjr 

B 



20 RULES FOR CONVERSATION. 

Seizing people by the button. 

Never hold any body by the button, or the hand, 
in order to be heard out; for if people are notwill- 

inoment to interrupt your narration, and inquire of other 
people, and beg their assistance ; sometimes in regard to 
the fact itself, sometimes the names of persons, and other 
circumstances, of what you have undertaken to recite. 

But, if you are to relate any thing which was said or 
done amongst any number of people, you ought not too 
frequently to use the expressions of—' He said,' or ' He 
replied ;' because these pronouns agree equally with all 
the persons concerned ; and this ambiguity must neces- 
sarily lead the audience into an error. It is proper 
therefore that he who relates any fact should make use of 
some proper names, and take care not to change them one 
for another during the narration. 

Moreover, the reciter of any Incident ought to avoid 
the mentioning those circumstances, which, if omitted, 
the story would not be less, or rather, would be more 
agreeable without them. 'The person I speak of was 
son of Mr. Such-a-one, who lives in St. James-street j 
do you know the man? His wife was daughter to Mr. 
Such-a-onc , she was a thin woman, who used to come 
constantly to prayers at St. Lawrence's church : you must 
certainly know her. — Zounds! if you do not know her, 
you know nothing!' Or, 'He was a handsome, tall old 
gentleman, who wore his own long hair . do not you re- 
collect him?' — Now, if the very same thing might as 
well have happened to any other person which happened 
to him, all this long disquisition were to little purpose ; 
Day, must be very tedious and provoking to the audience, 
who being impatient to arrive at a complete knowledge 
of the affi&ir which you have begun upon, you seem de 
l***mined to delay the gratifying their curiosity as long 
q« pos>ibfc . — (-.oloAro . 



RULES FOR CONVERSATION. 21 

ing to hear you, you had much better hold youi 
tongue dian they.* 

Long talkers and whisperers. 

Long talkers generally single out seme unfoitu- 
nate man in company to whisper, or at least, in a 
half voice, to convey a continuity of words to. This 
is excessively ill-bred, and, in some degree, a fraud ; 
conversation-stock being a joint and common pro- 
perty. But if one of these unmerciful talkers lays 
hold of you, hear him with patience, (and at least 
with seeming attention,) if he is worth obliging ; 
for nothing will oblige him more than a patient hear- 
ing, as nothing would hurt him more, than either to 
leave him in the midst of his discourse, or to disco- 
ver your impatience under )-our affliction. 

Inattention to persons speaking. 

There is nothing so brutally shocking, nor so lit- 
tle forgiven, as a seeming inattention to the person 
who is speaking to you ;f and I have known many 
a man knocked down for a much slighter provoca- 
tion than that inattention which I mean. 1 have 

*When you are talking to any one, do not be conti- 
nually punching him in the side, as some people art, 
who, after every sentence, keep asking the person they 
are conversing with, ' Did not I tell you so'?' ' What do 
you think of the matter V 'What say you, sir 1 ?' and in 
the mean time they are every moment jogging and 
thrusting him with their elbow ; which cannot he consi- 
dered as a mark of respect. — Galateo. 

tit is also a very disagreeable practice to interrupt a 
person by any noise in the midst of his speech ; which, 
iudeed, must give the person interrupted much the same 
pleasure as it would give you, if, when vou were just 



22 RULES FOR CONVERSATION. 

seen many people, who, while you are speaking to 
them, instead of looking at and attending to you, 
fix their eyes upon the ceiling, or some other part 
of the room, look out of the window, play with a 
dog, twirl their snuff-box, or pick their nose. No- 
thing discovers a little, futile, frivolous mind more 
than this, and nothing is so offensively ill-bred ; it 
is an explicit declaration on your part, that every 
the most trifling object deserves your attention more 
than all that can be said by the person who is speak - 

reaching the goal in full speed, any one should suddenly 
draw you back. 

Neither is it consistent with good manners, when ano 
ther person is speaking, that you should contrive, either 
by showing something new, or by calling the attention 
of the company another way, to make him neglected and 
forsaken by his audience. 

Neither does it become you to dismiss the company, 
who were not invited by you, but by some other person. 

You ought also to be attentive, when any one is talk- 
ing to you, that you may not be under the necessity of 
asking every moment, 'What do you say?' 'How did 
you say ? 1 under which fault, indeed, many people la- 
bour ; when yet this is not attended with less trouble to 
the speaker than if, in walking, he were every moment 
to kick his foot against a stone. All these practices, and, 
in general, whatever may check the speaker in his course, 
whether directly or obliquely, are carefully to be avoided. 

And if any one be somewhat slow in speaking, you 
ought not to forestall him, or supply him with proper 
words, as if you alone were rich and he were poor in ex- 
pressions ; for many people are apt to take this ill, those 
especially who have an opinion of their own eloquence ; 
and therefore they think you do not pay them that defer- 
ence which they imagine to be their due, and that you 
are desirous of suggesting hints to them in that art, in 
which they fancy themselves great proficients. — Galatea 



RULES FOR CONVERSATION. 23 

ing to you. Judge of the sentiments of hatred and 
resentment which such treatment must excite in 
every breast where any degree of self-love dwells. 
I repeat it again and again, that sort of vanity and 
self-love is inseparable from human nature, what- 
ever may be its rank or condition ; even your foot- 
man will sooner forget and forgive a beating, than 
any manifest mark of slight and contempt. Be, 
therefore, not only really, but seemingly and mani- 
festly, attentive to whoever speaks to you. 

Never interrupt any speaker. 

It is considered as the height of ill-manners to 
interrupt any person while speaking, by speaking 
yourself, or calling off the attention of the company 
to any new subject. This, however, every chili 
knows. 

Adopt rather than give the subject. 

Take, rather than give, the subject of the com- 
pany you are in. If you have parts, you will show 
them, more or less, upon every subject ; and if you 
have not, you bad better talk sillily upon a subject 
of other people's than of your own choosing. 

Conceal your learning from the company. 

Never display your learning, but on particular 
occasions. Reserve it for learned men, and let 
even these rather extort it from you than appear 
forward to display it. Hence you will be deemed 
modest, and reputed to possess more knowledge 
than you really have. Never seem wiser or more 
learned than your company. The man who affects 
to display his learning, will be frequently question- 
ed; and, if found superficial, will be ridiculed 



24 RULES FOR CONVERSATION. 

and despised ; if otherwise, he will be deemed a 
pedant. Nothing can lessen real merit (which 
will always show itself; in the opinion of the world, 
but an ostentatious display of it by its possessor. 

Contradict with politeness. 

When you oppose or contradict any person's as- 
sertion or opinion, let your manner, your air, your 
terms, and your tone of voice be soft and gentle, 
and that easily and naturally, not affectedly. Use 
palliatives when you contradict ; such as, '• I may 
be deceived — I am not sure, but I believe — I should 
rather think, &c.'* Finish any argument or dispute 

* You ought to accustom yourself to an elegant, mo- 
dest, and pleasing manner of expression ; and such as 
hath nothing offensive to those you converse with. Thus, 
instead of saying, • Sir, you do not understand me,' you 
ought rather to say, 'I believe I do not express myseif so 
clearly as I ought to do.' It is also better to say, 'Let us 
consider the affair more accurately — whether we take it 
right or not,' than 'You mistake, or ' It is not so ;' or ' You 
know nothing of the matter ;' for it is a polite and amia- 
ble practice to make some excuse for another, even in 
those instances where you are convinced he might justly 
be blamed ; nay, though your friend alone has been in a 
mistake, yet you should represent the mistake as com- 
mon to you both : and when you have ascribed some part 
of it to yourself, then you may venture to admonish or to 
reprove him in some such expressions as these : ' We ar6 
under a very great mistake here ; or ' We did not recol 
lect how we settled this affair yesterday ;' though, perhaps 
it was he alone, and not you, that was so forgetful. 

That kind of expressions also, which rude people some- 
times make use of, such as, * if what you say is true,' ia 
extremely unpolite ; for a man's veracity ought not so 
very lightly to be called in question. 



RULES FOR CONVERSATION. 25 

with some little good-humoured pleasantry, to show 
that you are neither hurt your-self, nor mea-nt to 
hurt your antagonist ; for an argument, kept up 
a good while, often occasions a temporary aliena- 
tion on each side. 

Avoid argument if possible. 

Avoid, as much as you can, in mixed companies, 
argumentative, polemical conversations, which cer- 
tainly indispose, for a time, the contending- parties 
towards each other; and, if the controversy grows 
warm and noisy, endeavour to put an end to it by 
some genteel levity or joke. 

Always debate with temper. 

Arguments should never be maintained with heat 
and clamour, though we believe or know ourselves 
to be in the right : we should give our opinions mo- 
destly and coolly ; and, if that will not do, endea 
vour to change the conversation by saying, 'We 
shall not be able to convince one another, nor is it 
necessary that we should ; so let us talk of some- 
thing else.'* 

* Those people, likewise, who contradict whatever is 
spoken by others, and make every assertion matter of dis- 
pute and altercation, discover by that very behaviour 
that they are very little acquainted with human nature: 
for every one is fond of victory ; and it is with extreme 
reluctance that they submit to be overborne, either in 
c©nversution or in the management of affairs. Besides, 
to be so ready to oppose other people, upon all occasions, 
is conversing like enemies rather than friends : he, there- 
fore, that wishes to appear amiable and agreeable to his 
acquaintance, will not have continually in his mouth ex- 
pressions of this kind: "Tis false, sir; whatever you 



26 RULES FOR CONVERSATION. 

Local propriety to be observed. 

Remember that there is a local propriety to be 
observed in all companies ; and that what is ex- 
tremely proper in one company may be, and often 
is, highly improper in another. 

Jokes, bons mots, SfC 

The jokes, bons mots, the little adventures, whicn 
may do very well in one company, will seem flat 
and tedious when related in another. The parti- 
cular characters, the habits, the cant, of one com- 
pany may give merit to a word or a gesture, which 
would have none at all if divested of those acci- 
dental circumstances. Here people very common- 
ly err; and fond of something that has entertained 
them in one company, and in certain circumstan- 

may think, the affair is as I say;' and the like. Nor let 
him be so ready to prove every trifle by a bet or wager ; 
but rather let him make it a constant rule to submit with 
complaisance to the opinion of others, especially in mat- 
ters of no great moment ; because victories of this kind 
often cost a man extremely dear ; for he that comes off 
victorious in some frivolous dispute, frequently suffers the 
loss of some intimate friend ; and at the same time makes 
himself so disagreeable to others, that they dare not ven- 
ture to be upon a familiar footing with him, for fear of 
being every moment engaged in some foolish altercation. 
If anyone, however., should at any time be drawn into 
a dispute by the company he is engag,ed in, let him manage 
it in a mild and»gentle manner, and not appear too eager 
for the victory; but let every one so far enjoy his own 
opinion, as to leave the decision of the matter in question 
to the majority, or at least to the most zealous part of the 
company, and thus the victory, as due, will voluntarily 
be yielded to you. — Galateo. 



RULES FOR CONVERSATION. 2? 

ces, repeat it with emphasis in another, where it is 
either insipid, or it may be offensive, by being ill- 
timed or misplaced. Nay, they often do it with 
this silly preamble: 'I will tell you an excellent 
tiling; 1 or, * I will tell you the best thing in the world.' 
This raises expectations, which, when absolutely 
disappointed, make the relator of this excellent 
thing look very deservedly like a fool. 

Egotism*, 

Upon all occasions avoid speaking of yourself, 
jf it be possible. Some abruptly speak advanta- 
geously of themselves, without either pretence or 
provocation. This is downright impudence. — 
Others proceed more artfully, as they imagine; 
forging accusations against themselves, and com- 
plaining of calumnies which they never heard, in 
order to justify themselves, and exhibit a catalogue 
of their many virtues. * They acknowledge, in- 
deed, it may appear odd that they should talk thus 
of themselves ; it is what they have a great aver- 
sion to, and what Ihey could not have done if they 
had not been thus unjustly and scandalously abused. 1 
This thin veil of modesty, drawn before vanity, is 
much too transparent to conceal it, even from those 
who have but a moderate share of penetration. 

Others go to work more modestly and more slily 
still ; they confess themselves guilty of all the car- 
dinal virtues, by first degrading them into weak- 
nesses, and then acknowledging their misfortune in 
being made up of those weaknesses. 'They can- 
not see people labouring under misfortunes, without 
sympathizing with and endeavouring to help them. 
They cannot see their fellow-creatures in distress, 
without relieving them ; though, truly, their cir- 
3 ?2 



28 RULES FOR CONVERSATION. 

eumslances cannot very well afford it. They can- 
not avoid speaking the truth, though they acknow- 
ledge it to be sometimes imprudent. In short, they 
confess that, with all these weaknesses, they are 
not fit to live in the world, much less to prosper m 
k. But they are now too old to pursue a contrary 
conduct, and therefore they must rub on as well as 
they can,' 

Though this may appear too ridiculous and outre 
even for the stage, yet it is frequently met with upon 
the common stage of the world. This principle oi 
vanity and pride is so strong in human nature, thai 
& descends even to the lowest objects; and we of- 
ten see people fishing for praise, where, admitting 
all they say to be true, no just praise is to be caught. 
One perhaps affirms that he has rode post a hun- 
dred miles in six hours : probably this is a false- 
hood : but, even supposing it to be true; what 
then ? Why it must be admitted that he is a very- 
good post-boy, that is all. Another asserts, per- 
haps not without a few oaths, that he has drunk six 
or eight bottles of wine at a sitting, It would be 
charitable' to believe such a man a liar ; for, if we 
do not, we must certainly pronounce him a beast. 

There are a thousand such follies and extrava* 
gancies which vanity draws people into, and which 
always defeat their own purpose. The only method 
of avoiding these evils, is never to speak ©f our- 
selves : but when in a narrative, we are obliged to 
mention ourselves, we should take care not to drop 
a single word that can directly or indirectly be con- 
strued as fishing for applause. Be our characters 
what they will they will be known ; and nobody 
w.'il take them upon our own words. Nothing that 
wc m a\\ say ourselves will varnish our delects, ©* 



RULES FOR CONVERSATION. 29 

add lustre to our perfections ; but, on the contrary, it 
will often make the former more glaring, and the 
latter obscure. If we are silent upon our own me- 
rits, neither envy, indignation, nor ridicule, will ob- 
struct or allay the applause which we may really 
deserve. But if we are our own panegyrists upon 
am r occasion, however artfully dressed or disguised, 
every one will conspire against us, and we shall be 
disappointed of the very end we aim at.* 

Be not dark nor mysterious. 
Take care never to seem dark and mysterious; 

* Neither ought any one to boast of his nobility, his 
honours, or his riches, much less of his own wisdom ; or 
magnificently to extol the bravery and great actions, ei- 
ther of himself or of his ancestors ; or, what is but too 
common, at every other word, to talk of his family : for, 
he that does thus will appear to do it in opposition to the 
present company, especially if they are not, or at least 
think they are not less noble, less honourable, or less brave 
than himself. Or, if they are really his inferiors in rank 
or station, he will be deemed to oppress them, as it were, 
by his grandeur, and designedly to reproach them with 
their meanness and misery ; which must be universally 
displeasing to all mankind. 

Nor yet ought any one to extenuate or demean himself 
too much, any more than he should immoderately exalt 
himself, but rather subtract a little from his real dignity 
and merits, than arrogate too much by his words, even in 
the most trifling instance. For what is really laudable 
must displease in the excess. 

Yet, it must be observed, that those who immoderately 
extenuate their actions by their words, and renounce 
those honours which are indisputably their due, by that 
very conduct discover a greater degree of pride, even 
than those who, in this respect, usurp what does not be- 
long to them. — Galateo. 



30 RULES FOR CONVERSATION. 

which is not only a very unamiable character, but 
a very suspicious one too: if you seem mysterious 
with others, they will be really so with you, ana 
you will know nothing. The height of abilities is 
to have a frank, open, and ingenuous exterior, with 
a prudent and reserved interior ; to be upon your 
own guard, and yet, by a seeming natural openness, 
to put people off of theirs. The majority of every 
company will avail themselves of every indiscreet 
and UHguarded expression of yours, if they can 
turn it to their own advantage. 

Look people in the face when speaking. 

Always look people in the face when you speak 
to them : the not doing it is thought to imply con- 
scious guilt; besides that, you lose the advantage 
of observing, by their countenances, what impres- 
sion your discourse makes upon them. In order 
to know people's real sentiments, I trust much 
more to my eyes than to my ears ; for they can say 
whatever they have a mind I should hear, but they 
can seldom help looking what they have no inten- 
tion that I should know. 

Scandal, 

Private scandal should never be received nor re- 
tailed willingly; for though the defamation of others 
may, for the present, gratify the malignity or the 
pride of our hearts, yet cool reflection will draw 
very disadvantageous conclusions from such a dis- 
position. In scandal, as in robbery, the receiver is 
always thought as bad as the thief.* 

* We ought not to speak slightly of others, or of their 
affairs ; for, notwithstanding we may seem by that means 



RULES FOR CONVERSATION 31 

Never indulge general reflections 

Never, in conversation, attack whole bodies of 
any kind ; for you may thereby unnecessarily make 
yourself a great number of enemies. Among wo- 
men, as among men, there are good as well as bad, 
and, it may be, full as many, or more good than 
among men. This rule holds as to lawyers, sol- 
diers, parsons, courtiers, citizens, &c. They are 
all men, subject to the same passions and senti- 
ments, differing only in the manner, according to 
their several educations ; and it would be as im- 
prudent as unjust to attack any of them by the 
lump. Individuals forgive sometimes, but bodies 
• and societies never do. Many young people think 
it very genteel and witty to abuse the clergy ; in 
which they are extremely deceived ; since, in my 
opinion, parsons are very like men, and neither 
the better nor the worse for wearing a black 
gown. All general reflections upon nations and 
societies are the trite threadbare jokes of those 
who set up for wit without having any, and so 
have recourse to common-place. Judge of indi- 
viduals from your own knowledge of them, and not 
from their sex, profession, or denomination. 

Mimicry. 
Mimicry, which is the common and favourite 

10 gain the most willing- and ready attention (from the 
«nvy which mankind usually conceive at the advantages 
and honours which are paid to others,) yet every one will 
at length avoid us, as they would a mischievous bull ; for 
all men shun the acquaintance of people addicted to scan- 
dal ; naturally supposing that what they say of others in 
their company, they will say of them in the company of 
others. — Galatco. 



32 RULE.* FOR CONVERSATION. 

amusement of lime, low minds, is in the utmost 
contempt with great ones. It is the lowest and 
most illiberal of all buffoonery. We should neithe* 
practise it, nor applaud it in others. Besides that, 
the person mimicked is insulted; and, aslhavt 
often observed to you before, an insult is never for • 
given.* 

Swearing. 

We may frequently hear some people, in goo«r 
company, interlard their conversation with oaths, 

* Neither ought any thing to be done in an abject, fawn 
ing, or buffbonish manner, merely to make other people 
laugh ; such as distorting our mouths or our eyes, and imi- 
tating the follies and gesticulations of a harlequin or amer- 
ry-andrew : for no one ought basely to demean himself 
to please other people. This is not the accomplishment 
of a gentleman, but of a mimic and a buffoon ; whose 
vulgar and plebeian methods of entertaining their compa- 
ny ought by no means to be imitated. 

Yet I would not have you affect a stupid insensibility 
in this respect, or too great delicacy on these occasions ; 
but he that can seasonably produce something new and 
smart (in this way,) and not obvious to every one, let him 
produce it; but he that is not blest with this faculty, let 
him hold his tongue ; for these things proceed from the 
different turn of men's minds ; which, if they are elegant 
and agreeable, they convey an idea * the ingenuity and 
readiness of wit in the person that utters them, which 
generally gives great pleasure to others, and renders the 
person agreeable and entertaining; but, if the contrary 
is the case, we must expect a contrary effect ; for peo- 
ple that aim at this kind of wit, without the ability, are like 
an ass that pretends to be pleasant, or a fat, punch-bellied 
fellow, who should attempt to lead up a minuet, or strip 
himself and dance a hornpipe upon the stage.— Calat co 



RULES FOR CONVERSATION. 33 

fey way of embellishment, as they suppose ; but 
we must observe, too, that those who do so are 
siever those who contribute in any degree to give 
that company the denomination -of good company. 
They are generally people of low education ; for 
swearing, without having a single temptation to 
plead, is as silly, and as illiberal, as it is wicked. 

Sneering. 

Whatever we say in company, if we say it wh% 
a supercilious, cynical foce, or an embarrassed 
countenance, or a silly, disconcerted grin, k will be 
ill received. If we mutter it, or utter it indistinctly 
and ungracefully, it will be still worse received.* 

'Talk not of your own nor oiher person's private 
affairs. 
Never talk of your own or other people's domes- 
tic affairs; yours are nothing to them, but tedious; 
theirs are nothing to you. It is a tender subject, 
and it is a chance if you do not touch somebody or 
^other's sere place. In this £ase there is no trust- 
ing to specious appearances, which are often stf 
contrary to the real situation of things between 
men and their wives, parents and their children, 
seeming friends, &e. that, with the best intentions 
In the world, we very often make some very disa- 
greeable blunders. f 

* He also, Who, either m token of admiration, or by 
way of sneer, makes a particular kind o? noise with his 
•mouth, exhibits an idea of deformity ; and these things, 
■which are thus expressed by signs, differ but little front 
■the things themselves. 

t A great part of mankind are so wonderfully pleased 
♦with themselves, as .not in the least to regard whether 



34 RULES FOR CONVERSATION. 

Explicitness. 

Nothing makes a man look sillier in company, 
than a joke or pleasantry not relished or not under- 
stood ; and, if he meets with a profound silence 
when he expected a general applause ; or, what is 

tTiey please or displease other people f and, in order to 
display their own sagacity, great sense and wisdom, they 
will be giving their advice to one man, finding fault with 
another, and disputing with a third ; and, in short, they 
oppose the opinions of other people with so much vehe- 
mence, that from words they often come to blows, as they 
will allow no weight in any one's opinion but their own. 
But to give one's advice to others, unasked, is in effect 
to declare that we are much wiser than those to whom 
we give it, and is a kind of reproaching them with- their 
ignorance and inexperience. This freedom, therefore, 
ought not to be taken with mere common acquaintance,, 
but only with those to whom we are united by the most 
intimate friendship, or those of whom the care and in*- 
spection is particularly committed to ©ur charge ; or even 
with a stranger, if we perceive him to be threatened with 
any imminent danger. But in our daily, intercourse with 
mankind, we ought to be cautious not to obtrude our ad« 
vice too officiously upon others, nor show ourselves im- 
pertinently solicitous about their affairs. Into this mis- 
take, however, many are apt to fall, but for the most part 
people of no great depth of understanding ; for these 
ignorant and superficial people are led merely by their 
senses, and seldom make any deep- reflections upon what 
eomes before them ; being that sort of men who have 
scarcely any matters of consequence submitted to theii 
disquisition and examination. But, however this may be, 
he that is offering his advice upon all occasions, and thus^ 
distributing it at random, gives a plain intimation to the 
pest of the world that they are entirely destitute of tha* 
Wisdom and prudence in whichhe so greatly abounds 
Galatea. 



RULES FOR CON VERS ATION. 35 

still worse, if he is desired to explain the joke or 
bon mot ; his awkward and embarrassed situation 
is easier imagined than described. 

Secrecy. 

Be careful how you repeat in one company what 
you hear in another. Things seemingly indifferent 
may, by circulation, have much graver consequen- 
ces than may be imagined. There is a kind of 
general tacit trust in conversation, by which a man 
is engaged not to report any thing out of it, though 
he is not immediately enjoined secrecy. A retailer 
of this kind draws himself into a thousand scrapes 
and discussions, and is shily and indifferently re- 
ceived wherever he goes. 

Adapt your conversation to the company. 

Always adapt your conversation to the people you 
are conversing with ; for I suppose you would not 
talk upon the same subject, and in the same man- 
ner, to a bishop, a philosopher, a captain, and a 
woman. 

Never suppose yourself the subject or laugh of the 
company. 

People of an ordinary, low education, when they 
happen to fall into good company, imagine them- 
selves the only object of its attention : if the com* 
pany whispers, it is, to be sure, concerning them ; 
if they laugh, it is at them ; and if any thing am- 
biguous, that by the most forced interpretation can 
be applied to them, happens to be said, they are 
convinced that it was meant for them ; upon which 
they grow out of countenance first, and then angry. 
This mistake is very well ridiculed in the Strata- 



36 RULES FOR CONVERSATION. 

gem, where Scrub says, c I am sure they talked of 
me! for they laughed consumediy.' A well-bred 
man seldom thinks, but never seems to think, him- 
self slighted, undervalued, or laughed at in com- 
pany, unless where it is so plainly marked out, that 
his honour obliges him to resent it in a proper man- 
tier. On the contrary, a vulgar man is captious 
and jealous; eager and impetuous about trifles. — 
He suspects himself to be slighted ; thinks every 
thing that is said meant at him: if the company 
happens to laugh, he is persuaded they laugh at 
him; he grows angry and testy, says something 
very impertinent, and draws himself into a scrape, 
by showing what he calls a proper spirit, and as-* 
serting himself. The conversation of a vulgar man 
also always savours strongly of the lowness of his 
education and company. It turns chiefly upon his 
domestic affairs, his servants, the excellent order 
he keeps in his own family, and the little anecdotes 
of the neighbourhood ; all which he relates with 
emphasis, as interesting matters. lie is a man 
gossip. 

Seriousness. 

A certain degree of exterior seriousness in looks 
and motions gives dignity, without excluding wk 
and decent cheerfulness. A constant smirk upon 
the face, and a whiffling activity of the body, are 
strong indications of futility. 

ECOiNOMY. 

A fool squanders away, without credit or ad- 
vantage to himself, more than a man of sense 
spends with both. The latter employs his money 
as he does his time, and never spends a shilling of 



ECONOMY. 3? 

the one, nor a minute of the other, but in something 
that is either useful or rationally pleasing to himself 
or others. The former buys whatever he does not 
want, and does not pay for what he does want. — 
He cannot withstand the charms of a toy-shop : 
snuff boxes, watches, heads of canes, &c. are his 
destruction. His servants and tradesmen conspire 
with his own indolence to cheat him ; and in a 
very little time he is astonished, in the midst of all 
these ridiculous superfluities, to find himself in want 
of all the real comforts and necessaries of life. 

Without care and method, the largest fortune will 
not, and with them almost the smallest will, sup 
ply all necessary expenses. As far as you can 
possibly, pay ready money for every thing you buy, 
and avoid bills. Pay that money too yourself, and 
not through the hands of any servant; who al- 
ways either stipulates poundage, or requires a pre- 
sent for his good words, as they call it. Where 
you must have bills, (as for meat and drink, clothes, 
&c.) pay them regularly every month, and with 
your own hand. Never, from a mistaken economy, 
buy a thing you do not want, because it is cheap; 
or, from a silly pride, because it is dear. Keep an 
account, in a book, of all that you receive, and of 
all that you pay; for no man who knows what he 
receives, and what he pays, ever runs out. I do 
not mean that you should keep an account of the 
shillings and half crowns which you may spend in 
chair hire, &c. they are unworthy of the time and 
the ink that they would consume ; leave such mi- 
nutice to dull, penny-wise fellows: but remember, 
in economy, as in every other part of life, to have 
the proper attention to proper objects, and the pro- 
per contempt for little ones. 



38 
FRIENDSHIP. 

Young persons have commonly an unguarded 
frankness about them, which makes them the easy 
prey and bubbles of the artful and the experienced ; 
they look upon every knave or fool who tells them 
that he is their friend, to be really so ; and pay that 
profession of stimulated friendship with an indis- 
creet and unbounded confidence, always to their 
loss, often to their ruin. Beware of these proffer- 
ed friendships. Receive them with great civility, 
but with great incredulity too ; and pay them with 
compliments, but not with confidence. Do not 
suppose that people become friends at first sight, 
or even upon a short acquaintance. Real friendship 
is a slow grower; and never thrives unless ingrafted 
upon a stock of known and reciprocal merit. 

There is another kind of nomiaal friendship 
among young people, which is warm for the time, 
but luckily of short duration. This friendship is 
hastily produced, by their being accidentally thrown 
together, and pursuing the same course of riot and 
debauchery. A fine friendship, truly! and well 
cemented by drunkenness and lewdness. It should 
rather be called a conspiracy against morals and 
good manners, and be punished as such by the ci- 
vil magistrate. However, they have the impu- 
dence, and the folly, to call this confederacy a 
friendship. They lend one another money, for 
bad purposes ; they engage in quarrels, offensive 
and defensive, for their accomplices ; they tell one 
another all they know, and often more too : when, 
on a sudden, some accident disperses them, and 
they think no more of each other, unless it be to 
betray and laugh at their imprudent confidence. 



FRIENDSHIP. 39 

When a man uses strong protestations or oaths 
to make you believe a thing, which is of itself so 
probable that the bare saying of it would be suffi- 
cient, depend upon it he deceives you, and is high- 
ly interested in making you believe it, or else he 
would not take so much pains. 

Remember to make a great difference between 
companions and friends; for a very complaisant 
and agreeable companion may, and often does, 
prove a very improper and a very dangerous friend. 
People will, in a great degree, form their opinion of 
you, upon that which they have of your friends; 
and there is a Spanish proverb, which says, very 
justly, 'Tell me whom you live with, and I will 
tell you who you are.' One may fairly suppose, 
that a man who makes a knave, or a fool his friend, 
has something very bad to do or to conceal. But, 
at the same time that you carefully decline the 
friendship of knaves and fools, if it can be called 
friendship, there is no occasion to make either of 
them your enemies, wantonly and unprovoked ; for 
they are numerous bodies ; and I would rather 
choose a secure neutrality, than an alliance or war 
with either of them. You may be declared enemy 
to their vices and follies, without being marked out 
by them as a personal one. Their enmity is the 
next dangerous thing to their friendship. Have a 
real reserve with almost every body ; and have a 
seeming reserve with almost nobody ; for it is very 
disagreeable to seem reserved, and very dangerous 
not to be so. Few people find the true medium : 
many are ridicuously mysterious and reserved upon 
trifles; and many imprudently communicative; of 
all they know 



40 



GOOD BREEDING. 

Good breeding has been very justly defined to 
be the result of much good sense, some good na- 
ture, and a little self-denial for the sake of others, 
and with a view to obtain the same indulgence 
from them. 

Good breeding cannot be attended to too soon or 
too much; it must be acquired while young, or it 
is never quite easy ; and, if it is acquired young, 
will always last and be habitual. Horace says, 
Quo semel est imbuta recens, servabit odor em testa 
dm: to show the advantage of giving young peo- 
ple good habits and impressions in their youth. 

Good breeding alone can prepossess people in 
our favour at first sight ; more time being neces- 
sary to discover greater talents. Good breeding, 
however, does not consist in low bows and formal 
ceremony ; but in an easy, civil, and respectful be- 
haviour. 

Indeed, good sense in many cases must deter- 
mine good breeding; for what will be civil at one 
time, and to one person, would be rude at another 
time, and to another person : there are, however, 
some general rules of good breeding. As for ex- 
ample: To answer only Yes, or No, to any person, 
without adding Sir, My Lord, or Madam, (as it 
may happen,) is always extremely rude ; and it is 
equally so not to give proper attention and a civil 
answer when spoken to : such behaviour convinces 
the person who is speaking to us, that we despise 
him, and do not think him worthy of our attention 
or an answer. 

A well bred person will take care to answer with 
complaisance when he is spoken to ; will place him 



GOOD BREEDING. 41 

self at the lower end of the table, unless bid to go 
higher; will first drink to the lady of the house, 
and then to the master: he will not eat awkwardly, 
or dirtily, nor si' when others stand; and he will 
do all this with an air of complaisance, and not 
with a grave ill-natured look, as if he did it all un- 
willingly. 

There is nothing more difficult to attain, or so 
necessary to possess, as perfect good breeding, 
which is equally inconsistent with a stiff formality, 
an impertinent forwardness, and an awkward bash- 
fulness. A little ceremony is sometimes necessary ; 
a certain degree of firmness is absolutely so; and 
an outward modesty is extremely becoming. 

Virtue and learning, like gold, have their intrin- 
sic value ; but if they are not polished, they certain- 
ly lose a great deal of their lustre : and even po- 
lished brass will pass upon more people than rough 
gold. What a number of sins does the cheerful, 
easy, good breeding of the French frequently cover! 

My Lord Bacon says, 'That a pleasing figure is 
a perpetual letter of recommendation. ' It is cer- 
tainly an agreeable forerunner of Merit, and smooths 
the way for it. 

A man of good breeding should be acquainted 
with the forms and particular customs of courts. 
At Vienna, men always make curtseys, instead of 
bows, to the emperor: in France, nobody bows to 
the king, or kisses his hand ; but in Spain and Eng- 
land, bows are made, and hands are kissed. Thus 
every court has some peculiarity, which those who 
visit them ought previously to inform themselves 
of, to avoid blunders and awkwardness. 

Very few, scarcely any, are wanting in the re- 
spect which they should show to those whom they 



42 GOOD BREEDING. 

acknowledge to be infinitely their superiors. The- 
man of fashion, and of the world, expresses it in 
its fullest extent; but naturally, easily, and without 
concern ; whereas a man w! j, is not used to keep 
good company, expresses it awkwardly ; one sees 
that he is not used to it, and that it costs him a 
great deal : but I never saw the worst bred man 
living guilty of lolling, whistling, scratching his 
head, and such like indecencies, in company that 
he respected. In such companies, therefore, the 
only point to be attended to is, to show that re 
spect which every body means to show, in an easy, 
unembarrassed, and graceful manner. 

In mixed companies, whoever is admitted to 
make part of them, is, for the time at least, sup- 
posed to be upon a footing of equality with the 
rest; and, consequently, every 7 one claims, and 
very justly, every mark of civility and good breed- 
ing. Ease is allowed, but carelessness and negli- 
gence are strictly forbidden. If a man accosts you, 
and talks to you ever so dully or frivolously, it is 
worse than rudeness, it is brutality, to show him, 
by a manifest inattention to what he says, that you 
think him a fool or a blockhead, and not worth 
hearing. It is much worse so with regard to wo- 
men ; who, of whatever rank they are, are entitled, 
in consideration of their sex, not only to an atten- 
tive, but an officious, good breeding from men. 
Their little wants, likings, dislikes, preferences, 
antipathies, fancies, whims, and even impeitinen-" 
ces, must be officiously attended to, flattered, and, 
if possible, guessed at and anticipated by a well- 
bred man. You must never usurp to yourself 
those conveniences and agremens which are of 
common right; such as the best places, the best 



GOOD BREEDING. 43 

dishes, &c. but, on the contrary, always decline 
them yourself, and offer them to others ; who, in 
their turns, will offer them to you : so that, upon 
the whole, you will, in your turn, enjoy your share 
o£ common right. 

The third sort of good breeding is local, and is 
variously modified in not only different countries, 
but in different towns of the same country. But it 
must be founded upon the two former sorts ; they 
are the matter, to which, in this case, fashion and 
custom only give the different shapes and impres- 
sions. Whoever has the first two sorts will easily 
acquire this third sort of good breeding, which de- 
pends singly upon attention and observation. It is 
properly the polish, the lustre, the last finishing 
strokes of good breeding. A man of sense, there- 
fore, carefully attends to the local manners of the 
respective places where he is, and takes for his mo- 
dels those persons whom he observes to be at the 
head of the fashion and good breeding. He watches 
how they address themselves to their superiors, 
how they accost their equals, and how they treat 
their inferiors ; and lets none of those little nice- 
ties escape him, which are to good breeding what 
the last delicate and masterly touches are to a good 
picture, and which the vulgar have no notion of, 
but by which good judges distinguish the master. 
He attends even to their air, dress, and motions, 
and imitates them liberally, and not servilely ; he 
copies, but does not mimic. These personal gra- 
ces are of very great consequence. They antici- 
pate the sentiments, before merit can engage the 
understanding; they captivate the heart, and give 
rise, 1 believe, to the extravagant notions of charms 
and philtres. Their effects were so surprising, that 
they were reckoned supernatural. 
4 C 



44 GRACES. 

In short, as it is necessary to possess learning, 
honour, and virtue, to gain the esteem and admira- 
tion of mankind, so politeness and good breeding 
are equally necessary to render us agreeable in con- 
versation and common life. Great talents are 
above the generality of the world, who neither pos- 
sess them themselves, nor are competent judges of 
them in others: but all are judges of the lesser ta- 
lents, such as civility, affability, and an agreeable 
address and manner ; because they feel the good ef- 
fects of them, as making society easy and agreeable. 

To conclude : Be assured, that the profoundest 
learning, without good breeding, is unwelcome and 
tiresome pedantry; and good breeding, without 
learning, is but frivolous; whereas learning adds 
solidity to good breeding, and good breeding gives 
charms and graces to learning: that a man, who is 
not perfectly well-bred, is unfit for good company, 
and unwelcome in it; and that a man, who is not 
well-bred, is full as unfit for business as for company. 

Make, then, good breeding the great object of 
your thoughts and actions. Observe carefully the 
behaviour and manners of those who are distin- 
guished by their good breeding; imitate, nay, en- 
deavour to excel, that you may at least reach them ; 
and be convinced that good breeding is to all world- 
ly qualifications, what charity is to all Christian 
virtues. Observe how it adorns merit, and how 
often it covers the want of it. 

GRACES* 
The graces of the person, the countenance, and 

* We must not think it sufficient that we do any thing 
merely well : but we ought to make it our study to do 
every thing gracefully also. 



GRACES. 45 

the way of speaking, are essential things. The 
very same thing said by a genteel person in an en- 
gaging way, and gracefully and distinctly spoken, 
would please; which would shock, if muttered out 
by an awkward figure, with a sullen serious coun^ 
tenance. The poets represent Venus as attended 

Now, grace is nothing - more than a certain lustre, which 
shines forth from a harmony of the parts of things, pro- 
perly connected and elegantly disposed in regard to the 
whole: without which symmetry, indeed, what is really 
good may not be beautiful: and without which, even 
beauty itself is not graceful, or even pleasing. And as a 
dish, however good or wholesome, is not likely to please 
our guests, if it has either no flavour at all, or a bad one ; 
thus the behaviour of men, though it really offend no 
one, may, nevertheless, be insipid, and even distaste- 
ful, unless a man can learn that sweetness of manners, 
which, I apprehend, is properly called elegance and 
grace. 

Wherefore, every kind of vice ought, indeed, on its 
own account, and without any other cause, to be esteem- 
ed extremely odious ; for vice is a thing so very shock- 
ing, and unbecoming a gentleman, that every well-regu- 
lated and virtuous mind must feel pain and disgust at the 
ignominious appearance of it. He, therefore, that is de- 
sirous of appearing amiable in his conversation with 
mankind, ought, above all things, to shun every kind of 
vice ; those especially which are the most shameful and 
base; such as luxury, avarice, cruelty, and the like: of 
which some are evidently vile and abject: such as glut- 
tony and drunkenness : some filthy and obscene ; such 
as lewdness ; some shockingly wicked ; as murder ; and 
so of the rest. Every one of which is, in its own nature, 
some more, some less, peculiarly odious and detestable to 
others. Now all these vices in general, as things scanda- 
lous and unlawful, render a man thoroughly disagreeable 
in common life. — Galateo. 



46 GRACES. 

by the three Graces, to intimate, that even beauty- 
will not do without. Minerva ought to have three 
also; for without them, learning has few attrac- 
tions. 

If we examine ourselves seriously, why particu- 
lar people please and engage us, more than others 
of equal merit, we shall always find that it is be- 
cause the former have the Graces, and the latter 
not. I have known many a woman, with an exact 
shape, and a symmetrical assemblage of beautiful 
features, please nobody; while others, with very 
moderate shapes and features, have charmed every 
body. It is certain that Venus will not charm so 
much without her attendant Graces, as they will 
without her. Among men, how often has the most 
solid merit been neglected, unwelcome, or even re- 
jected, for want of them ! while flimsy parts, little 
knowledge, and less merit, introduced by the Gra- 
ces, have been received, cherished, and admired. 

We proceed now to investigate what these Gra- 
ces are, and to give some instructions for acquiring 
them. 

Address. 

A man's fortune is frequently decided for ever by 
his first address.* If it is pleasing, people are 

* Every one should accustom himself to address others 
in a kind and affable manner ; converse with them, an- 
swer them, and behave to every one as he would to a fel- 
low-citizen, and one with whom he was intimately ac- 
quainted. In this respect many people are greatly de- 
fective : who never vouchsafe to look pleased upon any 
one ; who seem glad of every opportunity to contradict 
whatever other people assert 5 and, whatever act of kind- 
ness is tendered them, they reject it with rudeness 5 like 



GRACES. 47 

hurried involuntarily into a persuasion that he has 
a merit, which possibly he has not: as, on the 
other hand, if it is ungraceful, they are immediate- 
ly prejudiced against him; and unwilling to allow 
him the merit which, it may be, he has. The worst 
bred man in Europe, should a lady drop her fan, 
would certainly take it up and give it to her; the 
best bred man in Europe could do no more. The 
difference, however, would be considerable : the 
latter would please by his graceful address in pre- 
senting it; the former would be laughed at for 
doing it awkwardly. The carriage of a gentleman 
should be genteel, and his motions graceful. He 
should be particularly careful of his manner and 
address, when he presents himself in company. 
Let them be respectful without meanness, easy 
without too much familiarity, genteel without affec- 
tation, and insinuating without any seeming art or 
design. Men, as well as women, are much oftener 
led by their hearts than by their understandings 
The way to the heart is through the senses; please 
their eyes and their ears, and the work is half done. 

Art of Pleasing. 
It is a very old and a very true maxim, that those 
kings reign the most secure, and the most absolute, 

foreigners or barbarians, who are suspicious of every ci- 
vility that is shown them; who never discover the least 
degree of cheerfulness, by any sprightly or even friendly 
conversation ; and whatever overture of respect is shown 
them, they receive it with disdain. 'Mr. Such-a-one de- 
sired me to make his compliments to you.' 'What the 
devil have I to do with his compliments?' 'Mr. in- 
quired after you lately, and asked how you did.' 'Let 
him come and feel my pulse, if he wants to know.' Now 
men of this morose stamp are, deservedly, but little loved 
or esteemed by others. — Galateo. 



48 GRACES. 

who reign in the hearts of their people. Their 
popularity is a better guard than their army ; and 
the affections of their subjects, a better pledge of 
their obedience, than their fears. This rule is, in 
proportion, full as true, though upon a different 
scale, with regard to private people. A man who 
possesses that great art of pleasing universally, and 
of gaining the affections of those with whom he 
converses, possesses a strength which nothing else 
can give him: a strength, which facilitates and 
helps his rise ; and which, in case of accidents, 
breaks his fall. Few }'oung people of your age 
sufficiently consider this great point of popularity; 
and when they grow older and wiser, strive in vain 
to recover what they lost by their negligence. 
There are three principal causes that hinder them 
from acquiring this useful strength ; pride, inatten- 
tion, and mauvaise horde. The first f will not, 
cannot, suspect you of; it is too much below your 
understanding. You cannot, and I am sure you 
do not, think yourself superior by nature to the 
Savoyard who cleans your room, or the footman 
who cleans your shoes ; but you may rejoice, and 
with reason, at the difference which fortune has 
made in your favour. Enjoy all those advantages ; 
but without insulting those who are unfortunate 
enough to want them, or even doing any thing un- 
necessarily that may remind them of that want. 
For my own part, I am more upon my guard as to 
my behaviour to my servants, and others who are 
called my inferiors, than I am towards my equals; 
for fear of being suspected of that mean and un- 
generous sentiment, of desiring to make others feel 
that difference which fortune has, and perhaps, too, 
undeservedly, made between us. Young people do 



GRACES. 49 

not enough attend to this ; but falsely imagine that 
the imperative mood, and a rough tone of autho- 
rity and decision, are indications of spirit and 
courage. 

Inattention is always looked upon, though some- 
times unjustly, as the effect of pride and contempt ; 
and where it is thought so, is never forgiven. In 
this article, young people are generally exceedingly 
to blame, and offend extremely. Their whole at- 
tention is engrossed by their particular set of ac- 
quaintance ; and by some few glaring and exalted 
objects of rank, beauty, or parts : a.l\ the rest they 
thirtk so little worth their care, that they' neglect 
even common civility towards them. I will frank- 
ly confess to you, that this was one of my great 
faults when I was of your age. Very attentive to 
please that narrow court-circle in which I stood en- 
chanted, I considered every thing else as bourgeois, 
and unworthy of common eivility; I paid my court 
assiduously and skilfully enough to shining and dis- 
tinguished figures, such as ministers, wits, and 
beauties ; but then I most absurdly and imprudent- 
ly neglected, and consequently offended, all others. 
By this folly I made myself a thousand enemies of 
both sexes ; who, though I thought them very in- 
significant, found means to hurt me essentially, 
where I wanted to recommend myself the most. 
I was thought proud, though I was only im- 
prudent. A general easy civility and attention 
to the common run of ugly women, and of mid- 
dling men, both which I sillily thought, called .and 
treated as odd people, would have made me as 
many friends, as by th* contrary conduct I made 
myself enemies. All this too was a pure perte ; 
€or I might equally, and even more successfully, 



50 GRACES. 

have made my court, where I had particular views 
to gratify. I will allow that this task is often very 
unpleasant, and that one pays, with some unwil- 
lingness, that tribute of attention to dull and te- 
dious men, and to old and ugly women ; but it is 
tne vowest price of popularity and general ap- 
plause, which are very well worth purchasing, 
were they much dearer. I conclude this head with 
this advice to you : Gain, by particular assiduity 
and address, the men and women you want ; and, 
by a universal civility and attention, please every 
body so far as to have their good word, if not their 
good will ; or, at least, as to secure a partial neu- 
trality. 

Mauvaise horde not only hinders } T oung people 
from making a great many friends, but makes them 
a great many enemies. They are ashamed of do> 
ing the thing that they know to be right, and would 
otherwise do, for fear of the momentary laugh oi 
some fine gentleman or lady, or of some mauvais 
plaisant. I have been in this case ; and have often; 
wished an obscure acquaintance at the devil for 
meeting and taking notice of me, when 1 was in 
what I thought and called fine company. 1 have 
returned their notice shily, awkwardly, and conse- 
quently offensively ; for fear of a momentary joke; 
not considering, as I ought to have done, that the 1 
very people, who would have joked upon me at 
first, would have esteemed me the more for it after- 
wards. 

Pursue steadily, and without fear or shame^, 
whatever your reason tens you is right, and what 
j'ou see is practised by people of more experience* 
than yourself and of established characters of good 
sense and good breeding. 



GRACES. 51 

After all this, perhaps you will say, that it is im- 
possible to please every body. I grant it : but it 
does not follow that one should not therefore en- 
oeavour to please as many as one cam. Naj T , I will 
go farther, and admit, that it is impossible for any 
man not to have some enemies. But this truth, 
from long experience, I assert: that he who has 
the most friends, and the fewest enemies, is the 
strongest ; will rise the highest with the least envy ; 
and fall, if he does fall, the gentlest and the most 
pitied. This is surely an object worth pursuing. 
Pursue it according to the rules 1 have here given 
you. I will add one observation more, and two 
examples to enforce it ; and then, as the parsons 
say, conclude. 

The late Duke of Ormond was almost the weak- 
est, but, at the same time, the best bred and most 
popular man in this kingdom. His education in 
courts and camps, joined to an easy, gentle nature, 
had given him that habitual affability, those en- 
gaging manners, and those mechanical attentions, 
that almost supplied the place of every talent he 
wanted ; and he wanted almost every one. They 
procured him the love of all men, without the es- 
teem of any. He was impeached after the death 
of Queen Anne, only because that, having been en- 
gaged in the same measures with those who were 
necessarily to be impeached, his impeachment for 
form's sake, became necessary. But he was im- 
peached without acrimony, and without the least 
intention that he should suffer, notwithstanding the 
party-violence of those times. The question for 
his impeachment, in the House of commons, was 
carried by many fewer votes, than any other ques- 
tion of impeachment ; and Earl Stanhope, then 
C2 



52 GRACES. 

-Mi\ Stanhope, and secretary of state, who im- 
peached him, very soon after negociated and con- 
cluded his accommodation with the late king; to 
whom he was to have been presented the next day. 
But the late Bishop of Rochester, Atterbury, who 
thought that the Jacobite cause might suffer by 
losing the Duke of Ormond, went in all haste and 
prevailed with the poor weak man to run away ; 
assuring him, that he was only to be gulled into a 
disgraceful submission, and not to be pardoned in 
consequence of it. When his subsequent attain- 
der passed, it excited mobs and disturbances in 
town. He had not a personal enemy in the world, 
and had a thousand friends. All this was singly 
owing to his natural desire of pleasing ; and to the 
mechanical means that his education, not his parts, 
had given him of doing it. The other instance is 
the late Duke of Prlarlborough, who studied the art 
of pleasing, because he well knew the importance 
of it : he enjoyed and used it more than ever man 
did. He gained whoever he had a mind to gain , 
and he had a mind to gain every body, because he 
knew that every body was more or less worth gain- 
ing. Though his power, as minister and general, 
made him many political and party enemies, they 
did not make him one personal one ; and the very 
people who would gladly have displaced, disgra- 
. ced, and perhaps attainted, the Duke of Marlbo- 
rough, at the same time personally loved Mr. 
Churchill, even though his private character was 
blemished by sordid avarice, the most unamiable of 
all vices. He had wound up and turned his whole 
machine to please and engage. He had an inimita- 
ble sweetness and gentleness in his countenance, a 
a tenderness in his manner of speaking, a graceful 



GRACES. SS 

dignity in every motion, and a universal and mi- 
nute attention to the least things that could possi- 
bly please the least person. This was all art in 
him ; art, of which he v/ell knew and enjoyed the 
advantages : for no man ever had more interior 
ambition, pride, and avarice, than he had. 

Choice of amusements. 

A gentleman always attends even to the choice 
of his amusements. If at cards, he will not play at 
cribbage, all-fours, or putt; or, in sports of exercise, 
bs seen at skittles, foot-ball, leap-frog, cricket, dri- 
ving of coaches, &c. for he knows that such an 
imitation of the manners of the mob will indelibly 
stamp him with vulgarity. I cannot likewise 
avoid calling playing upon any musical instrument 
illiberal in a gentleman Music is usually reck- 
oned one of the liberal arts, and not unjustly : but 
a man of fashion, who is seen piping or fiddling at 
a concert, degrades his own dignity. If you love 
music, hear it ; pay fiddlers to play to you, but ne- 
ver fiddle yourself. It makes a gentleman appear 
frivolous and contemptible, leads him frequently 
into bad company, and wastes that time which 
might otherwise be well employed. 

Carving. 

However trifling some things may seem, they are 
no longer so, when above half the world thinks 
them otherwise. Carving, as it occurs at least 
once in every day, is not below our notice. We 
should use ourselves to carve adroitly and genteelly, 
without hacking half an hour across a bone, with- 
out bespattering the company with the sauce, and 
without overturning the glasses into your neigh- 



54 GRACES. 

bour's pockets. To be awkward in this particular, 
is extremely disagreeable and ridiculous. It is 
easily avoided by a little attention and use; and a 
man, who tells you gravely that he cannot carve, 
may as well tell you that he cannot blow his nose ; 
it is both as easy and as necessary.* 

* Rules for behaviour at tabic. 

It is very rude, when at table, to scratch any part of 
your body. 

You ought to take care, also, if possible, not to spit 
during that time ; or, if you are under a necessity of do- 
ing it, it ought to be done in some decent manner. I have 
sometimes heard, that there were whole nations, former- 
ly, so temperate, and of so dry a habit of body, from fre- 
quent exercise, that they never spit or blew their noses 
on any occasion. Why cannot we therefore contain our 
spittle for so short a space of time, at least, as is spent at 
our meals? 

We should likewise be careful not to cram in our food 
so greedily, and with so voracious an appetite, as to cause 
us to hiccup, or be guilty of any tiling else that may of- 
fend the eyes or the ears of the company ; which they do 
who eat in such a hurry, as, by their puffing and blowing, 
to be troublesome to those who sit near them. 

It is also very indecent to rub your teeth with the ta- 
ble-cloth or napkin ; and to endeavour to pick them with 
your finger is more so. 

In the presence also of others, to wash your mouth, and 
to squirt out the wine with which you have performed 
that operation, is very impolite. 

When the table is cleared, to carry about your tooth- 
pick in your mouth, like a bird going to build his nest, or 
to stick it behind your ear, as a barber does his comb, is 
no very genteel custom. 

They also are undoubtedly mistaken in their notions 
of politeness, who carry their tooth-pick cases hanging 
down from their necks ; for, besides that it is an odd sight 



GRACES. 55 

Chit- Chat. 

Study to acquire that fashionable kind of small- 
\alk or chit-chat, which prevails in all polite assem- 
olies ; and which, trifling as it may appear, is of 

for a gentleman to produce any thing of that kind from 
his bosom, like some strolling pedlar, this inconvenience 
must also follow from such a practice, that he who acts 
thus discovers that he is but too well furnished with e very- 
instrument of luxury, and too anxious about every thing 
that relates to the belly : and I ca*n see no reason why 
the same persons might not as well display a silver spoon 
hanging about their necks. 

To lean with your elbows upon the table, or to fill both 
your cheeks so full that your jaws seem swelled, is by 
no means agreeable. 

Neither ought you, by any token or gesture, to disco- 
ver that you take too great pleasure in any kind of food 
or wine , which is a custom more proper for inn-keepers 
and parasites. 

To invite those who sit at table with you to eat, by ex- 
pressions of this kind, 'What! have you proclaimed a 
fast to-day]' or, ' Perhaps here is nothing at table you 
can make a dinner of?' or, 'Pray, sir, taste this or that 
dish-' Thus to invite people, I say, is by no means a lau- 
dable custom, though now become familiar to almost 
every one, and practised in every family; for though these 
officious people show that the person whom they thus in- 
vite is really the object of their care, yet they give occa- 
sion, by this means, to the person invited, to be less free ig 
his behaviour, and make him blush at the thoaght of being 
the subject of observation. 

For any one to take upon him to help another to any 
thing that is set upon the table, I do not think very 
polite; unless, perhaps, the person who does this is of 
much superior dignity, so that he who receives it is ho- 
noured by the offer ; for if this be done amongst equals, 
he that offers any thing to another, appears, in some mea- 



56 GRACES. 

use in mixed companies and at table. It turns 
upon the public events of Europe, and then is at its 
best; very often upon the number, the goodness 
or badness, the discipline or the clothing, of the 
troops of different princes ; sometimes upon the fa- 
milies, the marriages, the relations of princes and 
considerable people; and sometimes the magnifi- 
cence of public entertainments, balls, masquerades, 
&c. Upon such occasions, likewise, it is not amiss 
to know how to parler cuisine, and to be able to 
dissert upon the growth and flavour of wines. 
These, it is true, are very little things; but they 
are little things that occur very often, and there 
fore should be said avec gentillesse et grace. 

Cleanliness. 

The person should be accurately clean; the teeth, 
hands, and nails, should be particularly so ; a dir- 
ty mouth has real ill consequences to the owner ; 

sure, to affect a superiority over him : sometimes, too, 
what is offered may not be agreeable to the palate of 
another. Besides, a man by this means seems to intimate 
that the entertainment is uot very liberally furnished out ; 
or, at least, that the dishes are placed in a preposterous 
order, when one abounds and the other wants. And it is 
possible that the person who gives the entertainment may 
not be very well pleased with such a freedom. Neverthe- 
less, in this respect, we ought rather to do what is usually 
done, than what we may think would be better done : for 
it is more advisable, in cases of this nature, to err with 
the multitude, than to be singular even in acting rightly. 
But whatever may be proper or improper in this respect, 
you should never refuse any thing that is offered you ; for 
you will be thought either to despise or to reprove him 
that offers it.— -Galateo. 



GRACES. 57 

for it infallibly causes the decay, as well as the in- 
tolerable pain, of the teeth ; and is very offensive, 
for it will most inevitably stink. Nothing looks 
more ordinary, vulgar, and illiberal, than dirty 
hands, and ugly, uneven, and ragged nails ; the 
ends of which should be kept smooth and clean, 
(not tipped with black,) and small segments of cir- 
cles ; and every time that the hands are wiped, rub 
the skin round the nails backwards, that it may 
not grow up, and shorten them too much. Upon 
no account whatever put your fingers in your nose 
or ears. It is the most shocking, nasty, vulgar 
rudeness, that can be offered to company. The 
ears should be washed well every morning ; and, 
in blowing your nose, never look at it afterwards.* 
These things may, perhaps, appear too insignifi- 
cant to be mentioned ; but when it is remembered 
that a thousand little nameless things, which every 
one feels but no one can describe, conspire to form 
that whole of pleasing, I think we ought not to call 
them trifling. Besides, a clean shirt and a clean 
person are as necessary to health as not to offend 
other people. I have ever held it as a maxim, and 
which I have lived to see verified, that a man who 

* It is extremely indecent to spit, cough, and expecto- 
rate, (as it were,) in company, as some hearty fellows are 
apt to do ; and more so, whtn you have blown your nose, 
to draw aside and examine the contents of your hand- 
kerchief: as if you expected pearls or rubies to distil 
from your brain. These kinds of habits, in good com- 
pany, are so very nauseous and disgusting, that, if we in- 
dulge ourselves in them, no one can be very fond of our 
acquaintance. So far from it, that even those who aro 
inclined to wish us well, must, by these and the like disa- 
greeable customs, be entirely alienated from us.— Galateo, 



58 GRACES. 

is negligent at twenty, will be a sloven at forty, and 
intolerable at fifty years of age. 

Compliments.* 

Attend to the compliments of congratulation, or 
condolence, that you hear a well-bred man make 
to his superiors, to his equals, and to his inferiors ; 
watch even his countenance and his tone of voice ; 
for they all conspire in the main point of pleasing. 
There is a certain distinguishing diction of a man 
of fashion : he will not content himself with saying, 
like John Trott, to a new married man, * Sir, I wish 
you much joy :' or to a man who has lost his son, 

* Sir, I am sorry for your loss ;' and both with a 
countenance equally unmoved : but he will say in 
effect the same thing, in a more elegant and less 
trivial manner, and with a countenance adapted to 
the occasion. He will advance with warmth, vi- 
vacity, and a cheerfuteountenance to the new-mar- 
ried man, and, embracing him, perhaps, say to him, 

* If you do justice to my attachment to you, you 

* If in your country it be a customary thing to say to 
any one, when you take your leave of him, ' Sir, I kiss 
your hand with the most profound respect :' or, ' Sir I am 
your most obedient servant, and entirely at your devo- 
tion :' or, \ Sir, you may command my best services ; use 
me or abuse me, at your ple^ure, and on every occasion 
whatever.' If, I say, it be the fashion to use these and 
the like forms of expression, I would by all means have 
you make use of them as well as other people. 

In short, whether in taking leave of, or in writing to, 
any person, you ought to address him, or take leave of 
him, not as reason, but as custom, requires ; not as men 
used to do formerly, or as, perhaps, they ought to do , 
but as they do now at this present time. — Galateo. 



GRACES. 59 

will judge of the joy that I feel upon this occasion, 
better than I can express it, &c.' To the other in 
affliction he will advance slowly, with a grave 
composure of countenance, in a more deliberate 
manner, and with a lower voice, perhaps, say, 4 I 
hope you will do me the justice to be convinced, 
that I feel whatever you feel, and shall ever be af- 
fected where you are concerned.' 

Diction, 

There is a certain language of conversation, a 
fashionable diction, of which every gentleman 
ought to be perfectly master, in whatever language 
he speaks. The French attend to it carefully, and 
with great reason ; and their language, which is a 
language of phrases, helps them out exceedingly. 
That delicacy of diction is characteristical of a 
man of fashion and good company.* 

* In any continued speech or narration, your words 
ought to be so placed, as the ease of common conversation 
requires ; I mean, that they should neither be perplexed 
and intricate, nor too ambitiously transposed, which many 
are apt to do, from a certain affectation of elegance ; 
whose discourse is more like the forms of a notary, who 
is explaining some instrument to others, in their vernacu- 
lar tongue, which he has written in Latin, than to the 
speech of one man talking to another in the language of 
their own country. A style thus transposed and per- 
plexed may sometimes answer the end of a man that is 
making verses, but is always ungraceful in a familiar 
conversation. 

Nor ought we only to abstain from this poetical man- 
ner of speaking in common conversation, but also from 
the pompous method of those that speak in public ; for 
unless we observe this caution, our discourse will be dis- 
agreeable and extremely disgusting; though, perhaps, it 

5 



60 GRACES. 

Dress and dancing. 

Dress is cue of the various ingredients that eon- 
tribute to the art of pleasmg, ana, ineretore, an ob- 
is a matter of greater skill to make those solemn speech- 
es, than to converse with a man in private ; but then, that 
kind of eloquence must be reserved for its proper place, 
A man ought not to dance, but walk a common pace along 
the street ; for though all men can walk, whereas many 
people cannot dance, yet the latter ought to be reserved 
for a wedding, or some joyful occasion, and not to be 
practised in the public walks. This way of conversing, 
then, so full of ostentation, ought by all means to be 
avoided. 

Nor yet would I have you, for this reason, accustom 
yourself to a mean and abject manner of expressing your- 
self; such as the lowest dregs of the people, porters, cob- 
blers, and laundresses, use ; but rather, that you should 
imitate the conversation of a well-bred man and a person 
of fashion. How to accomplish this, I shall now point 
out to you ; namely, 

First, By never discoursing upon low, frivolous, dirty, 
or immoderate subjects. 

Secondly, By making choice of such words in your own 
language, as are clear, proper, well -sounding, and such as 
have usually a good meaning annexed to them, and do 
not suggest to the imagination the idea of any thing base, 
filthy, or indecent. 

Thirdly, By ranging your words in an elegant order, 
so that they may not appear confused, and jumbled to- 
gether at random, nor, yet, by too laboured an exactness, 
forced into certain regular feet and measures. 

Farther, By taking care to pronounce carefully and 
db f \xctiy what you have to say ; and not join together 
things entirely different and dissimilar. 

If, moreover, in your discourse you are not too slow, 
like a man who, at a plentiful table, does not know what 
to choose first ; nor yet too eager, like a man half-starv 



GRACES. 61 

ject of some attention ; for we cannot help forming 
some opinion of a man's sense and character from 
his dress. All affectation in dress implies a flaw 
in the understanding. Men of sense carefully 
avoid any particular character in their dress ; they 
are actually clean for their own sake, but all the 
rest is for the sake of other people. A man should 
dress as well, and in the same manner, as the peo- 
ple of sense and fashion of the place where he is: 
if he drsses more than t-hey, he is a fop ; if he 
dresses less, he is unpardonably negligent : but of 
the two, a young fellow should be rather too much 
than too little dressed ; the excess of that side will 
wear off with a little age and reflection. 

The difference in dress between a man and a 
fop is, that the fop values himself upon his dress; 
and the man of sense laughs at it, at the same time 
that he knows that he must not neglect it. There 
are a thousand foolish customs of this kind, which, 
as they are not criminal, must be complied with, 
and even cheerfully, by men of sense. Diogenes, 
the Cynic, was a wise man for despising them, but 
a fool for showing it. 

ed ; but, if you speak calmnly and deliberately as a mo- 
derate man ought to do. 

Lastly, if you pronounce each letter and syllable with 
a proper sweetness (yet, not like some pedagogue, who 
is teaching children to read and spell,) neither stifling 
your word between your teeth, as if you were chewing 
them ; or huddling them together, as if you were swal- 
lowing them. By carefully attending to these precept3 
then; and a few more of this kind, others will hear you 
gladly and with pleasure ; and you yourself will obtain, 
with applause, that degree of dignity which becomes a 
well-bred man and a gentleman. — Galateo* 



62 GRACES. 

We should not attempt to rival or excel a fop in 
dress; but it is necessary to dress, to avoid singu- 
larity and ridicule. Great care should be taken to 
be always dressed like the reasonable people of our 
own age, in the place where we are, whose dress is 
never spoken of, one way or another, as neither 
too negligent nor too much studied.* 

Awkwardness of carriage is very alienating, and 
a total negligence of dress and air an impertinent 
insult upon custom and fashion. Women have 

*Let your dress be conformable to the customs of the 
age you live in, and suitable to your condition ; for it is 
not in our power to alter the general fashions at our 
pleasure ; which, as they are produced, so they are swal- 
lowed up, by time. In the mean while, every one may 
make shift to accommodate the general fashion to his 
own particular convenience, as the case may require. 
Thus, (for instance,) if you happen to have longer legs 
than the rest of mankind, and short coats are in vogue, 
you may take care that your coat be not the very short- 
est ; but rather somewhat less short than the extremity of 
the fashion requires : or if any one has either too slen- 
der, or too fleshy, or even distorted legs, let not such a 
one distinguish himself by stockings of a scarlet or any 
other very conspicuous colour, that he may not attract 
the notice of others to his defects. 

No part of your dress ought to be either too splendid, 
or enormously fringed or laced, lest, perhaps, you should 
be said to have stolen Cupid's mantle or the buskins of 
Ganymede. 

3ut whatever your clothes are, take care that they be 
^vcll made ; that they will sit with a grace, and be fitted 
to your person ; that you may not appear to have bor- 
rowed them of a friend, or hired them for the day : but, 
above all things, they should be suited to your rank and 
profession ; that a scholar be not dressed like a soldier, or 
an officer like a buffoon or dancing-master.^- Oalateo. 



GRACES. 63 

great influence as to a man's fashionable character; 
and an awkward man will never have their votes, 
which are very numerous, and oftener counted 
than weighed. 

When we are once well dressed for the day, we 
should think no more of it afterwards; and, with- 
out any stiffness for fear of discomposing that 
dress, we should be as easy and natural as if we 
had no clothes on at all. 

Dancing, likewise, though a silly trifling thing, is 
one of those established follies which people of 
sense are sometimes obliged to conform to ; and, if 
they do, they should be able to perform it well. 

In dancing, the motion of the arms should be 
particularly attended to, as these decide a man's 
being genteel or otherwise, more than any other 
part of the body. A twist or stiffness in theorist 
will make any man look awkward. If a man dan- 
ces well from the waist upwards, wears his hat well, 
and moves his head properly, he dances well. 
Coming into a room and presenting yourself to a 
company should be also attended to, as this always 
gives the first impression, which is often indelible. 
Those who present themselves well, have a certain 
dignity in their air, which, without the least seem- 
ing mixture of pride, at once engages and is re* 
spected. 

Drinking of healths. 

Drinking of healths is now growing out of fa- 
shion, and is deemed unpolite in good company. 
Custom once had rendered it universal, but the. 
improved manners of the age now consider it as ab- 
surd and vulgar. What can be more rude or ridi- 
culous than to interrupt persons at their meals with 



64 GRACES. 

an unnecessary compliment ? Abstain, then, from 
this silly custom where you find it disused; and 
use it only at those tables where it continues gene- 
ral.* 

Assurance. 

A steady assurance is too often improperly SI7- 
led impudence. For my part, I see no impudence, 
but, on the contrary, infinite utility and advantage, 
in presenting one's self with the same coolness and 

* To drink to any one, and teaze him to pledge you in 
larger glasses, against his inclination, is, in itself, an exe- 
crable custom ; which, however, has so far prevailed, as 
to appear impossible almost ever to be abolished. But 
you will, I am persuaded, gladly abstain from this vile 
practice; though, if you should be urged by others, and 
cannot entirely resist their importunity, you may thank 
them, and say that you willingly yield them the victory ; 
or, without taking a larger draught, you may lightly taste 
what is presented to you. 

And indeed this custom of drinking healths is sufficient- 
ly ancient; and was formerly much practised in Greece 
itself; for Socrates is highly applauded by some writers, 
that, after spending the whole night in drinking largely 
with Aristophanes, as soon as it was light in the morning, 
he would delineate and demonstrate any the most subtle 
geometrical problem without the least hesitation ; an 
evident proof, indeed, that the wine had not yet done him 
any injury : but this is rather to be ascribed to the strength 
of his brain, and to a good constitution, than to the tem- 
perance of a philosopher. Yet from this instance, and 
Dther frivolous arguments, some people have endeavour- 
ed to prove the expediency of drinking freely sometimes; 
though I can by no means assent to their opinion ; not- 
withstanding that, by a pompous parade of words, some 
learned men have so managed it, that an unjust cause has 
often gained the victory, and reason submitted to sophis- 
try and chicane. — Galatea. 



GRACES. 66 

anconcern in any and every company : till one can 
do that, 1 am very sure that one can never present 
one's self well. Whatever is done under concern 
and embarrassment, must be ill done; and till a 
man is absolutely easy and unconcerned in every 
company, he will never be thought to have kept 
good, nor be very welcome in it. Assurance and 
intrepidity, under the white banner of seeming mo- 
desty clear the way to merit, that would otherwise 
be discouraged by difficulties in its journey: where- 
as bare-faced impudence is the noisy and blustering 
harbinger of a worthless and senseless usurper. 

Hurry^ 
A man of sense may be dn haste, but can never 
be in a hurry, because he knows, that whatever he 
does in a hurry he must necessarily do very ill. 
He may be in haste to dispatch an affair, but he 
will takecj.re not to let that haste hinder his doing 
it well. Little minds are in a hurry, when the ob- 
ject proves (as it commonly does) too big for them,; 
£hey run, they hare, they puzzle, confound, atid 
perplex themselves ; they want to do everything at 
once, and never do it.at all. But a man of sense 
takes the time necessary for doing the thing he is 
about well; and his haste to dispatch a business 
only appears by the continuity of his application 
to it : he pursues it with a cool steadiness, and fi- 
nishes It before he begins any other. 

Laughter. 
Frequent and loud laughter is the characteristic 
of folly and ill-manners:* it is the manner in 

*"We ought also to abstain from a foolish, rustic, and 
insipid, horse-laugh, merely because we have contracted 



66 GRACES. 

which the mob expresses their silly joy at silly 
things ; and they call it being merry. In my mind, 
there is nothing so illiberal, and so ill-bred, as au- 
dible laughter. True wit or sense never yet made 
any body laugh ; they are above it ; they please 
the mind, and give a cheerfulness to the counte- 
nance. But it is low buffoonery, or silly accidents, 
that always excite laughter ; and that is what peo- 
ple of sense and breeding should show themselves 
above. A man's going to sit down, in the suppo- 
sition that he has a chair behind him, and falling 
down upon his breech for want of one, sets a whole 
company laughing, when all the wit in the world 
would not do it; a plain proof, in my mind, how 
low and unbecoming a thing laughter is ; not to 
mention the disagreeable noise that it makes, and 
the shocking distortion of the face that it occasions. 
Many people, at first, from awkwardness, have 
got a very disagreeable and silly trick of laughing 
whenever they speak : and I know men of very 
good parts, who cannot say the commonest thing 
without laughing; which makes those who do not 
know them, take them at first for natural fools. 

Letter -writing. 

It is of the utmost importance to write letters 

well ; as this is a talent which daily occurs, as welt 

in business as in pleasure; and inaccuracies in 

orthography, or in style, are never pardoned but in 

a silly habit of laughing, perhaps, rather froni any neces- 
sity there is for it : nor ought you to laugh at any joke 
or smart saying of your own ; for you will be thought to 
applaud your own wit. It belongs to the company, and 
not to him who says a good thing, to express their appra 
batiouby a laugh.— Galatea* 



GRACES. 67 

ladies: nor is it hardly pardonable in them. The 
Epistles of Cicero are the most perfect models of 
*ood writing. 

Letters should be easy and natural, and convey 
to the persons to whom we send them, just what we 
would say to those persons if we were present with 
them. 

The best models of letter-writing are Cicero, 
Cardinal d'Ossat, Madame Sevigne, and Comte 
Bussy Rabutin. Cicero's Epistles to Atticus, and 
to his familiar friends, are the best examples in the 
friendly and the familiar style. The simplicity and 
clearness of the Letters of Cardinal d'Oss .t show 
how letters of business ought to be written. For 
gay and amusing letters, there are none that equal 
Comte Eussy's and Madame Sevigne's. They are 
so natural, that they seem to be the extempore con- 
versations of two people of wit, rather than letters. 

Neatness in folding up, sealing, and directing 
tetters, is by no means to be neglected. There is 
Something in the exterior, even of a letter, that 
may please or displease, and consequently deserves 
some attention. 

JVickname. 

There is nothing that a young man, at his first 
appearance in the world, has more reason to dread, 
and therefo'&e should take more pains to avoid, than 
having any ridicule fixed on him. In the opinion 
even of the most rational men it will degrade him, 
but ruin him with the rest. Many a man has been 
undone by acquiring a ridiculous nickname. The 
causes of nicknames among well-bred men, are 
generally the little defects in manner, elocution, 
air, or address. To have the appellation of mut- 
tering, awkward, ill-bred, absent, left-legged, au- 
D. 



68 GRACES. 

nexed always to your name, would injure you 
more than you imagine: avoid, then, these little 
defects, and you may set ridicule at defiance. 

Pronunciation in speaking. 

To acquire a graceful utterance, read aloud to 
some friend every day, and beg of him to interrupt 
and correct you whenever you read too fast, do 
not observe the proper stops, lay a wrong empha- 
sis, or utter your words unintelligibly. You may 
even read aloud to yourself, and tune your utter- 
ance to your own ear. Take care to open your 
teeth when you read or speak, and articulate every 
word distinctly ; which last cannot be done but by 
sounding the final letter. But, above all, study to 
vary your voice according to the subject, and avoid 
a monotony. Daily attention to these articles will, in 
a little time, render them easy and habitual to you. 

The voice and manner of speaking, too, are not 
to be neglected : some people almost shut their 
mouths when they speak, and mutter so, that they 
are not to be understood; others speak so fast, and 
sputter, that they are not to be understood neither . 
some always speak as loud as if they were talking 
to deaf people ; and others so low that one cannot 
hear them. All these habits are awkward and dis- 
agreeable, and are to be avoided by attention : they 
are the distinguishing marks of the ordinary peo- 
ple, who have had no care taken of their educa- 
tion. You cannot imagine how necessary it is to 
mind all these little things; fori have seen many 
people, with great talents, ill received for want of 
having these talents; and others well received, only 
from their little talents, and who had no great 

OJjP.S. 



GRACES. 69 

Spelling. 
Orthography, or spelling well, is so aosolutely 
necessary for a man of letters or a gentleman, that 
one false spelling may fix a ridicule on him for the 
remainder of his fife. Reading carefully will con- 
tribute in a great measure to preserve you from ex- 
posing yourself by false spelling; for books are 
generally well spelled, according tc the orthogra- 
phy of the times. Sometimes words, indeed, are 
spelled differently by different authors, but those 
instances are rare; and where there is only one 
way of spelling a word, should you spell it wrong, 
you will be sure to be ridiculed. Nay, a woman of 
a tolerable education would despise and laugh at 
her lover if he should send her an ill spelled billet- 
doux. 

Style. 

Style is the dress of thoughts ; and let them be 
ever so just, if your style is homely, coarse, and 
vulgar, they will appear to as much disadvantage, 
and be as ill received, as your person, though ever 
so well proportioned, would, if dressed in rags, 
dirt, and tatters. It is not every understanding that 
can judge of matter: but every ear can and does 
judge, more or le-ss of style.* 

* We ought to make use of clear and significant 
words; which we shall do, if we know how to make a 
prudent choice of such words as are originally of our 
own country : so that they are not too stale and obsolete, 
and r like torn or thread-bare garments, iaid aside and 
out of use. Such, in English, are welkin, guerdon lore, 
meed, eftsoons, and the like. The. better to accomplish 
this also, let your words be simple, and not ambiguous ; 
for it is in the construction of riddles that words are to 



70 GRACES. 

Mind your diction, in whatever language you 
either write or speak : contract a habit of correct- 
ness and elegance. Consider your style, even in 
the freest conversation and most familiar letters. 
After, at least, if net before, you have said a thing, 
reflect if you could not have said it better. 
Writing. 

Every man who has the use of his eyes and his 
right hand can write whatever hand he pleases. 
Nothing is so ungentleman-like as a school-boy's 

be taken equivocally, or as expressing two different 
tilings For the same reason, we ought to use words in 
the most proper sense, and such as express the thing in- 
tended as significantly as possible, and which are the least 
applicable to any other tiling ; for by this means the very 
objects themselves will seem to be represented to our 
eyes, and rather pointed out to us, than merely described. 
Thus, it is proper 'to a horse to neigh, to a dog to bark, 
to a hog to grunt, to a bull to bellow, to a sheep to bleat, 
to a boar to gnash, a"nd to a serpent to hissS* As, there- 
fore, the genuine and proper names of things are to be 
used in our conversation with others, no one can commo- 
diously converse with him who does not understand the 
language which he makes use of: yet, though a stranger 
may not be master of the language which we use, we are 
not on his account to corrupt or lay aside our native 
tongue ; as some coxcomical jackanapes will attempt, 
with violent efforts, to make use of the language of any 
foreigner with whom they converse, and so express every 
thing improperly. We ought never to make use of a 
foreign language, unless when it is absolutely necessary 
to express our wants : but in our common intercourse with 
othjers, let us be contented with our native tongue, though 
it may be thought far inferior to, and less noble than, 
some others. — Galateo. 

* This precision in our language is of consequence; 
and too much neglected. 



GRACES. 71 

scrawl. I do not desire you to write a stiff, formal 
hand, like that of a schoolmaster, but a genteel, 
legible, and liberal character, and to be able to 
write quick. As to the correctness and elegancy 
of your writing, attention to grammar does the one 
and to the best authors, the other. Epistolar} r cor- 
respondence should be easy and natural, and con- 
vey to the persons just what we would say if we 
were with them. 

Vulgar expressions. 

Vulgarism in language is a certain characteris- 
tic of bad company and a bad education. Pro- 
verbial expressions and trite sayings are the flowers 
of the rhetoric of a vulgar man. Would he say, 
that men differ in their tastes ; he both supports 
and adorns that opinion by the good old saying, as 
he respectfully calls it, that 'What is one man's 
meat is another man's poison.' If any body at- 
tempts being smart, as he calls it, upon him, he 
gives them tit for tat, aye, that he does. He has 
always some favourite word for the time being, 
which, for the sake of using often, he commonly 
abuses ; such as vastly angry, vastly kind, vastly 
handsome, and vastly ugly. Even his pronuncia- 
tion of proper words carries the mark of the beast 
along with it. He calls the earth y earth; he is 
obleged, not obliged, to you. He goes to wards, 
and not toviards, such a place. He sometimes 
affects hard words, by way of ornament, which he 
always mangles like a learned woman. A man of 
fashion never has recourse to proverbs and vulgar 
aphorisms; uses neither favourite words nor hard 
words; but takes great care to speak very correctly 
and grammatically, aid to pronounce properly; 



72 GRACES. 

that is, according to the usage of the best compa- 
nies.* 

* Every gentleman will also be very cautious not to use 
any indecent or immodest expressions Now the decen- 
cy of an expression consists either in the sound, or in the 
word itself, or else in the signification of it ; for there are 
some words expressive of things decent enough, and yet 
in the word itself, or in the sound of it, there seems to bo 
something indecent and un polite. When, therefore, 
words of this kind, though but slightly suspected, offer 
themselves, well-bred women usually substitute others 
more decent in their rooom : but you will meet with some 
ladies (not the most polite women in the world) who fre- 
quently and inconsiderately let fall some expression or 
other, which, if it were designedly named before them, 
they would blush up to the ears. Women, therefore, who 
either are, or wish to be, thought well-bred, should care- 
fully guard, not only against all actions, but all words, 
which are indecent or immodest; and not only so, but 
from all which may appear such, or be capable of such an 
interpretation. 

It may farther be observed, that where two or more 
words express the same thing, yet one may be more or 
less decent than the other : for instance, we may Recent- 
ly enough say, ' He spent the night with the la-dy y but if 
we should express the same thing by another and more 
plain phrase, it would be very improper to be montioned. 
Thus it becomes a lady, and even a well-bred man, to 
describe a common prostitute by the name of an immo- 
dest woman, and so of the rest. 

Nor are indecent and immodest words alone, but also 
low and mean expressions, to be avoided, especially upon 
great and illustrious subjects ; for which reason, a poet, 
otherwise of no vulgar merit, is deservedly reprehensi- 
ble, who, intending to describe the splendour of a clear 
sky, says, 

*-. and without dregs the day :' 

for so low and dirty a phrase vas, in my opinion, by no 



GRACES. 73 

Cautions against sundry odd habits. 

Humming a tune within ourselves, drimming 
with our fingers, making a noise with our feet, and 
such awkward habits, being all breaches of good 
manners; are therefore indications of our contempt 
for the persons present, and consequently should 
not be practised. 

Eating very quick, or very slow, is characteristic 
of vulgarity: the former infers poverty; the latter, 
if abroad, that you are disgusted with yourenter- 
'lainment and, if at home, that you are rude 
enough to give your friends what you cannot eat 
yourself. Eating soup with your nose in your plate 
is also vulgar : so likewise is smelling to the meat 
while on the fork, before you put it in your mouth. 
If you dislike what is sent upon your plate, leave 
it : but never by smelling to or examining it, ap- 
pear to tax your friend with placing unwholesome 
provisions before you. 

Spitting on the floor or carpet is a filthy practice, 
and which, were it to become general, would ren- 
der it as necessary to change the carpets as the ta- 
ble-cloths. Not to add, it will induce our acquaint- 
ance to suppose that we have not been used to gen- 
teel furniture : for which reason alone, if for no 
other, a man of liberal education should avoid it. 

means suitable to so splendid and illustrious an object: 
neithejr can any one cleverly call the sun ' the candle of 
the world ;' for this expression suggests to the imagina- 
tion of the reader the stink of tallow and the greasiness 
of the kitchen. Hither may be referred many of those 
proverbs which are in the mouth of every one : the sen- 
timents of which may be good, but the words are pollu- 
ted, as it were, by the familiar use of the vulgar, as every 
one may observe from daily experience.— Galateo* 



74 KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD 

To conclude this article. Never walk fast in the 
streets, which is a mark of vulgarity, ill befitting 
the character of a gentleman or a man of fashion, 
though it may be tolerable in a tradesman. 

To stare any person full in the face, whom you 
may chance to meet, is an act also of ill breeding; 
it would seem to bespeak as if you saw something 
wonderful in his appearance, and is therefore a 
tacit reprehension. 

Keep yourself free, likewise, from all odd tricks 
or habits; such as scratching yourself, putting your 
fingers to your mouth, nose, and ears, thrusting out 
your tongue, snapping your fingers, biting your 
nails, rubbing your hands, sighing aloud, and af- 
fected shivering of your body, gaping, and many 
others which 1 have noticed before: all which are 
imitations of the manners of the mob, and degra 
ding to a gentleman. 

KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. 

We should endeavour to hoard up, while we are 
young, a great stock of knowledge; for, though 
during that time of dissipation we may not have 
occasion to spend much of it, yet a time will come 
when we shall want it to maintain us. 

How to acquire a knowledge of the world. 

The knowledge of the world is only to be acquired 
in the world, and not in a closet. Books alone will 
never teach it you ; but they will suggest many 
tilings to your observation, which might otherwise 
escape you ; and your own observations upon man- 
kind, when compared with these which you will 
find in books, will help you to fix the true point. 

To know mankind well, requires full as much 



KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. 7S 

attention and application as to know books, and, 
it may be, more sagacity and discernment. I am, 
tit this time, acquainted with many elderly people, 
who have all passed their whole lives in the great 
world, but with such levity and inattention, that 
they know no more of it, now than they did at fif- 
teen. Do not flatter yourself, therefore, with the 
thoughts that you can acquire this knowledge in the 
frivolous chit-chat of idle companies : no, you must 
go much deeper than that. You must look into peo- 
ple, as well as at them : search, therefore, with the 
greatest care into the characters of all those whom 
you converse with ; endeavour to discover their 
predominant passions, their prevailing weaknesses, 
their vanities, their follies, and their humours; 
with all the right and wrong, wise and silly, springs 
of human actions, which make such inconsistent 
and whimsical beings of us, rational creatures. 

Never show a contempt for any one. 
There are no persons so insignificant and incon- 
siderable, but may, some time or other, or in some- 
thing or other, have it in their power to be of use 
to you ; which they certainly will not, if you have 
once shewn them contempt. Wrongs are often for- 
given, but contempt never is: our pride remembers 
it for ever. Remember, therefore, most carefully 
to conceal your contempt, however just, wherever 
you would not make an implacable enemy. Men 
are much more unwilling to have their weaknesses 
and their imperfections known, than their crimes; 
and if you hint to a man that you think him silly, 
ignorant, or even ill-bred or awkward, he will hate 
you more and longer, than if you tell him plainly 
that you think him a rogue. 

6 D2 



7S KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLDS 

Make no man feel his inferiority. 
Nothing is more insulting than to take pains to 
make a man feel a mortifying inferiority in know- 
ledge, rank, fortune, &c. In the first, it is both ill- 
bred and ill-natured; and in the two latter articles^ 
it is unjust, they not being in- his power. Good 
breeding and good-nature incline us rather to raise 
people up to ourselves, than to mortify and depress- 
them ' besides it is making ourselves so many 
friends, instead of so many enemies.* A constant 
attention to please is a most necessary ingredient 
in the art of pleasing : it flatters the self-love of 
those to whom it is shown : it engages and capti- 
vates,, mare- than things of much greater impor- 
tance. Every mans is in some measure obliged to 
discharge the social duties of life: but these atten- 
tions are voluntary acts, the free-will offerings of 
good-breeding, and good-nature : they are received,, 
remembered, and returned, as such. Women, in 
particular, have a righ to them ; and any omission 
in that respect is down right ill-breeding. 

Never expose people's weaknesses and infirmities. 
We should never yield to that temptation, which 
to most young men is very strong, of exposing other; 
people's weaknesses and infirmities, for the sake 
either of diverting the company, or of showing our 
own superiority. We may, by that means, get the- 
laugh on our side for the present, but we shall make 

* Nothing ought to be done in, the presence of those 
whom we are desirous ta please, which may exhibit an 
appearance of superiority rather than an equality of con- 
dition. But every action and every gesture should be 
such as may testify the greatest respect and esteem for 
the persons with whom we are in company. — &ulxtea* 



KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. Tt 

enemies by it for ever ; and even those who laugh 
with us will, upon reflection, fear and despise us: 
it is ill-natured ; and a good heart desires rather to 
conceal than expose other people's weaknesses or 
misfortunes. If we have wit, we should use it to 
please, and not to hurt: we may shine, like the sun 
in the temperate zones, withouj scorching.* 

* We ought not to ridicule or to make sport even of our 
greatest enemy ; it being a mark of greater contempt to 
laugh at a person, than to do him any real injury : for all 
injuries are done either through resentment or some co- 
vetous disposition ; but there is no one who conceives any 
resentment against any person, or on account of airy 
thing, which he does not at all value, or who covets that 
which is universally despised ; which shows, that they 
think him a man of some consequence, at least, whom 
they injure ; but that they have an utter contempt for him 
whom they ridicule, or make a jest of: for when we 
make sport of any one, in order to expose or put him out 
of countenance, we do not act thus with a view to any ad- 
vantage or emolument, but for our pleasure and diversion. 
We ought, by- all means, therefore, in our common inter- 
course with mankind, to abstain from this ignominious 
kind of ridicule. And this is not very carefully attended 
to by those who remind others of their foibles, either by 
their words or their gestures, or by rudely mentioning 
the thing itself; as many do, who slily mimic, either by 
their speech or by some ridiculous distortion of their per- 
son, those that stammer, or who are bandy-legged, or 
hump-backed ; or, in short, who ridicule others for being 
any ways deformed, distorted, or of a dwarfish and in- 
significant appearance ; or those who, with laughing and 
exultation, triumph over others for expressing themselves 
with any little impropriety, or who take a pleasure in 
putting them to the blush ; which practices, as they are 
very disagreeable, so they make us deservedly odious. 

Not much unlike these are those buffoons, who take a 



78 KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. 

Steady command of temper and countenance. 

There are many inoffensive arts which are ne- 
cessary in the course of the world, and which he 

pleasure in teazing aud ridiculing any one that comes in 
their way ; not so much out of contempt, or with an in- 
tention to affront them, as merely for their own diver- 
sion. And, certainly, there would be no difference be 
tvveen jesting upon a person and making a jest of him, 
but that the end and intention are different : for he that 
jests upon any one, does it merely for amusement ; but he 
who makes a jest of him, does it out of contempt. Al- 
though these two expressions are usually confounded, 
b<^h in writing and in conversation, yet he that makes a 
joke of another, sets him in an ignominious light fur his 
own pleasure; whereas he who only jokes upon him, 
cannot so properly be said to take pleasure, as to divert 
himself in seeing another involved in some harmless er- 
ror ; for he himself, probably, would be very much grie- 
ved and concerned to see the same person in any ludicrous 
circumstances, attended with real disgrace. 

Hence it appears, that one and the same thing, though 
done to one and the same person, may be sometimes taken 
as jesting upon a man, and sometimes as making a jest 
of him, according to the intention of the person that does 
it. But because our intention cannot be evidently known 
to other people, it is not a very prudent practice, in our 
daily commerce with the world, to make use of so ambi 
guous and suspected an art. 

Not to mention, at present, that many of these wagge- 
ries consist, in some sort, of deception. Now, every one 
is naturally provoked at being deceived or led into an 
error. It appears, then, from many considerations, that 
he who is desirous of gaining the love and good-will of 
mankind, ought not greatly to affect this superiority in 
playing upon and teazing those with whom he converses. 

It is true, indeed, that we cannot, by any means, pass 
through this calamitous mortal life without some recr.ea- 



KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. 79 

who practises the earliest will please the most and 
rise the soonest. The spirits and vivacity of youth 
are apt to neglect them as useless, or reject them as 
troublesome : but subsequent knowledge and expe- 
rience of the world remind us of their importance, 
commonly when it is loo late. The principle of 
these things is the mastery of one's temper, and 
that coolness of mind and serenity of countenance 
which hinder us from discovering, by words, ac- 
tions, or even looks, those passions or sentiments 
by which we are inwardly moved or agitated; and 
the discovery of which gives cooler and abler peo- 
ple such infinite advantages over us, not only in 
great business, but in all the most common occur- 
rences of life. A man who does not possess him- 
self enough to hear disagreeable things without vi- 
sible marks of anger and change of countenance, 

tion and amusement; and because wit and humour occa- 
sion mirth and laughter, and consequently that relaxation 
which the mind requires, we are generally fond of those 
who excel in a facetious and agreeable kind of raillery, 
and, therefore, the contrary to what I have asserted may 
seem to be true ; I mean, that in our ordinary intercourse 
with mankind, it is highly commendable to entertain each 
other with wit and facetious repartees; and, doubtless, 
those who have the art of rallying with a good grace, and 
in an agreeable manner, are much more amiable than 
people of a contrary character. 

But here regard must be had to many circumstances ; 
and since the end proposed by these jocose people is to 
create mirth, by leading some one, whom they really es- 
teem into some harmless error, it is requisite that ths 
error into which he is led be of such a kind, as not to be 
attended with any considerable detriment or disgrace; 
otherwise, this sort of jokes can hardly be distinguished 
from real injuries.— Galateo. 



80 KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. 

or agreeable ones without sudden bursts of joy and 
expansion of countenance, is at the mercy of every 
artful knave or pert coxcomb : the former will pro- 
voke or please you by design, to catch unguarded 
words or looks ; by which he will easily decipher 
the secrets of your heart, of which you should keep 
the key yourself, and trust it with no man living. 
The latter will, by his absurdity, and without in- 
tending it, produce the same discoveries, of which 
other people will avail themselves. 

If you find yourself subject to sudden starts of 
passion, or madness, (for I see no difference be- 
tween them, but in their duration,) resolve within 
yourself, at least, never to speak one word while 
you feel that emotion within you. 

In short, make )'ourself absolute master of your 
temper and your countenance ; so far, at least, as 
that no visible change do appear in either, what- 
ever you may feel inwardly. This may be difficult, 
but it is by no means impossible; and as a man of 
sense never attempts impossibilities on the one 
hand, on the other, he is never discouraged by diffi- 
culties : on the contrary, he redoubles his industry 
and his diligence; he perseveres, and infallibly pre- 
vails at last. In any point which prudence bids 
you pursue, and which a manifest utility attends, 
let difficulties only animate your industry, not de- 
ter you from the pursuit. If one way has failed, 
try another: be active, persevere, and you will con- 
quer. Some people are to be reasoned, some flat- 
tered, some intimidated, and some teamed, into a 
thing ; but, in general, all are to be brought into 
it at last, if skilfully applied to, properly managed, 
and indefatigably attacked in their several weak 
places. The time should likewise be judiciously 



KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. 81 

chosen: every man has his mollia tempora, bx£ 
t&at is far from being all day Jong; and you would 
choose your time very ill, if you applied to a man 
about one business, when his head was full of ano- 
ther, or when his heart was full of grief, anger, or 
any other disagreeable sentiment. 

Judge of other men's by your own feelings* 

In order to judge of the inside of others, study 
your own ; for men, in general, are very much 
alike; and though one has one prevailing passion, 
and anofher has another, )*et their operations are 
much the same; and whatever engages or disgusts, 
pleases or offends you, in others, will mutatis mu- 
tandis, engage, disgust, please, or offend others, in 
you. Observe, with the utmost attention, all the 
operations of your own mind, the nature of your 
passions, and the various motives that determine 
your will ; and you may, in a great degree, know 
all mankind. For instance: Do you find yourself 
'hurt and mortified, when another makes you feel 
his superiority and your own inferiority, in know- 
ledge, parts, rank, or fortune ? you will certainly 
take great care not to make a person, whose good 
will, good word, interest, esteem, or friendship, you 
would gain, feel that superiority in you, in case 
you have it. If disagreeable insinuations, sly 
sneers, or repeated contradictions, teaze and irritate 
you, would you use them where you wished to en- 
gage andplease? Surely not : and I hope you wish 
to engage and please almost universally. The temp- 
tation of saying a smart and witty thing, or bon mot,, 
and the malicious applause with which it is com- 
monly received, have made people who can say* 
£hem, and still oftener people who think theycaj^, 



82 KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. 

but cannot, and yet try, more enemies, and impla- 
cable ones too, than any one other thing that I know 
of. When such things, then, shall happen to b& 
said at your expense, (as sometimes they certainly 
will,) reflect seriously upon the sentiments of unea- 
siness, anger, and resentment, which they excite m 
you ; and consider whether it can* be prudent, by 
the same means, to excite the same sentiments irk 
others against youv It is a decided folly to lose at 
friend for a jest; but, in my mind, it is not a much 
less degree of folly, to make an enemy of an indif- 
ferent and neutral person for the sake of a bon mot 
When things of this kind happen to be said of you, 
the most prudent way is to seem not to suppose- 
that they are meant at you, but to dissemble and. 
conceal whatever degree of anger you may feel in^ 
wardly; and should they be so plain that you can- 
not be supposed ignorant of their meaning, to join 
in the laugh of the company against yourself; ac- 
knowledge the hit to be a fair one, and the jest a 
good one* and play off the whole thing in seeming 
good-humour : but by no means reply in the same 
way; which only shows that you are hurt, and 
publishes the victory which you might have con- 
cealed. Should the thing said, indeed, injure your 
honour, or v moral character, remember there are 
but two alternatives for a gentleman and a man o£ 
parts — extreme politeness, or a duel. 

Avoid seeing an qffroni if possible. 
If a man notoriously and designedly insults and; 
affronts you, knock him down ; but if he only in- 
jures you, your best revenge is to be extremely ci- 
vil to him in your outward behaviour, though, at 
the same time, you counterwork him, and return 



KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. 83 

him the compliment, perhaps with interest. This 
is not perfidy nor dissimulation; it would be so, if 
you were, at the same time, to make professions of 
esteem and friendship to this man; which I by no 
means lecommend, but, on the contrary abhor. 
All acts of civility are, by common consent, under- 
stood to be no more than a conformity to custom, 
for the quiet and eonveniency of society, the 
agremens of which are not to be disturbed by pri- 
vate dislikes and jealousies. • Only women and 
little minds pout and spar for the entertainment of 
the company, that always laughs at, and never 
pities them. For my own part, though 1 would by 
no means give up any point to a competitor, yet I 
would pique myself upon showing him rather more 
civility than to another man. In the first place, this 
behaviour infallibly makes all the laughers of- your 
side, which is a considerable party; and, in the 
next place, it certainly pleases the object of the 
competition, be it either man or woman : who 
never fail to say, upon such an occasion, that * they 
must own you have behaved yourself very hand- 
somely in the whole affair.' 

Dissemble resentment towards enemies. 
In short, let this be one invariable rule of our 
conduct: Never to show the least symptom of re- 
sentment, which you cannot, to a certain degree, 
gratify ; but always to smile where you cannot 
strike. There would be no living in the world, if 
one could not conceal, and even dissemble, the just 
causes of resentment which one meets with every 
day in active and busy life. Whoever cannot mas- 
ter his humour should leave the world, and retire to 
some hermitage in an unfrequented desert. By 






84 KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. 

showing an unavailing and sullen resentment, you 
authorize the resentment of those who can hurt you, 
and whom you cannot hurt ; and give them that 
very pretence, which, perhaps, they wished for, of 
breaking with and injuring you ; whereas the con- 
trary behaviour would lay them under the restraints 
of decency, at least, and either shackle or expose 
their malice. Besides, captiousness, sullenness, 
and pouting, are most exceedingly illiberal and 
vulgar. 

Trust not too much to any man's honesty. 

Though men are all of one composition, the se- 
veral ingredients are so differently proportioned in 
each individual, that no two are exactly alike; and 
no one, at all times, like himself. The ablest man 
will, sometimes, do weak things; the proudest man, 
mean things; the honestest man, ill things; and the 
wickedest man, good things. Study individuals, 
then ; and if you take (as you ought to do) their 
outlines from their prevailing passion, suspend your 
last finishing strokes till you have attended to and 
discovered the operations of their inferior passions, 
appetites, and humours. A man's general charac- 
ter may be that Gf the honestest man of the world : 
do not dispute it ; you might be thought envious or 
ill-natured ; but, at the same time, do not take this 
probity upon trust to such a degree as to put your 
life, fortune, or reputation in his power. This hon- 
est man may happen to be your rival in power, in 
interest, or in love ; three passions that often put 
honesty to most severe trials, in which it is too of- 
ten cast ; but, first, analyse this honest man your- 
self, and, then only, you will be able to judge how 
far you may, or may not, with safety trust him. 



KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. 85 

Study the foibles and passions of both sexes. 

If you would particularly gain the affection and 
friendship of particular people, whether men or 
women, endeavour to find out their predominant 
excellency, if they have one, and their prevailing 
weakness, which everybody has : and do justice to 
the one, and something more than justice to the 
other. Men have various objects in which they 
may excel, or at least would be thought to excel ; 
and though they love to hear justice done to them 
where they know that they excel, yet they are 
most and best flattered upon those points where 
they wish to excel, and yet are doubtful whether 
they do or not. As for example ; Cardinal Riche- 
lieu, who was undoubtedly the ablest statesman of 
his time, or perhaps of any other, had the idle va- 
nity of being thought the best poet too : he envied 
the great Corneille his reputation, and ordered a 
criticism to be written upon the Cid. Those, there- 
fore, who flattered skilfully, said little to him of his 
abilities in state affairs, or at least but en passant, 
and as it might naturally occur. But the incense 
which they gave him, the smoke of which they 
knew would turn his head in their favour, was as a 
bel esprit and a poet. Why? Because he was sure 
of one excellency, and distrustful as to the other. 

Flatter the vanity of all. 

You will easily discover every man's prevailing 
vanity, by observing his favourite topic of conver- 
sation ; for every man talks most of what he has 
most a mind to be thought to excel in. Touch him 
but there, and you touch him to the quick. 

Women have in general but one object, which is 
their beauty ; upon which scarce any flattery is too 



66 KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. 

gross for them to swallow. Nature has hard]} 
formed a woman ugly enough to be insensible to 
flattery upon her person. If her face is so shock- 
ing that she must, in some degree, be conscious of 
it, her figure and her air, she trusts > make ample 
amends for it. If her figure is deformed, her face, 
she thinks, counterbalances it. If they are both 
bad, she comforts herself that she has graces; a 
certain manner ; a je ne sais quoi, still more enga- 
ging than beauty. This truth is evident, from the 
studied and elaborate dress of the ugliest woman 
in the world. An undoubted, uncontested, con- 
scious beauty is, of all women, the least sensible of 
flattery upon that head; she knows it is her due, 
and is therefore obliged to nobody for giving it her. 
She must be flattered upon her understanding; 
which, though she may possibly not doubt of her- 
self, yet she suspects that men may distrust. 

Do not mistake me, and think that I mean to re- 
commend to you abject and criminal flattery : no : 
flatter nobody's vices nor crimes ; on the contrary, 
abhor and discourage them. But there is no living 
in ilie world without a complaisant indulgence for 
people's weaknesses and innocent though ridicu- 
lous vanities. If a man has a mind to be thought 
wiser and a woman handsomer than they really 
are, their error is a comfortable one to themselves, 
and an innocent one with regard to other people; 
and I would rather make them my friends, by in- 
dulging them in it, than my enemies, by endeavour- 
ing (and that to no purpose) to undeceive them. 

Suspect those who remarkably affect any one virtue. 

Suspect, in general, those who remarkably affect 
any one virtue : who raise it above all others, and 



KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. 87 

who, in a manner, intimate that they possess it ex- 
clusively : I say, suspect them ; for they are com- 
monly impostors : but do not be sure that they are 
always so; for I have sometimes known saints 
really religious, blusterers really brave, reformers 
of manners really honest, and prudes really chaste. 
Pry into the recesses of their hearts yourself, as far 
as you are able, and never implicitly adopt a cha- 
racter upon common fame ; which, though gene- 
rally right as to the great outlines of characters, is 
always wrong in some particulars. 

Guard against proffered friendship. 

Be upon your guard against those who, upon 
very slight acquaintance, obtrude their unasked and 
unmerited friendship and confidence upon you ; for 
they probably cram you with them only for their 
own eating : but, at the same time, do not roughly 
reject them upon that general supposition. Exa- 
mine farther, and see whether those unexpected 
offers flow from a warm heart and a silly head, or 
from a desi/ming head and a cold heart ; for knave- 
ry and fohy have often the same symptoms. In 
the first case, there is no danger in accepting them, 
valeant quantum vaWre possunt. In the latter case, 
it may be useful to seem to accept them, and art- 
fully to turn the battery upon him who raised it. 

Disbelieve assertions by oaths. 

If a man uses strong oaths or protestations to 
make you believe a thing which is of itself so like- 
ly and probable that the bare saying of it would be 
. sufficient, depend upon it he lies, and is highly in- 
terested in making you believe it, or else he would 
not take so much pains. 



88 KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. 

Shun riotous connexions. 

There is an inconsistency of friendship among 
young fellows who are associated by their mutual 
pleasures only, which has, very frequently, bad 
consequences. A parcel of warm hearts and un- 
experienced heads, heated by convivial mirth, and 
possibly a little too much wine, vow, and really 
mean at the time, eternal friendship to each other, 
and indiscreetly pour out their whole souls in com- 
mon, and without the least reserve. These confi- 
dences are as indiscreetly repealed as they were 
made; for new pleasures and new places soon dis- 
solve this ill-cemented connexion, and then very ill 
uses are made of these rash confidences. Bear 
your part, however, in young companies; nay, ex- 
cel, if you can, in all the social and convivial joy 
and festivity that become youth. Trust them with 
your love-tales, if you please ; but keep your seri- 
ous views secret. Trust those only to some tried 
friend, more experienced than yourself, and who, 
being in a different walk of life from you, is not 
likely to become your rival ; for I would nnt advise 
you to depend so much upon the heroic virtue of 
mankind, as to hope, or belie#e, that your compe- 
titor will ever be your friend, as to the object of 
that competition. 

A seeming ignorance often necessary. 
A seeming ignorance is very often a most neces- 
sary part of worldly knowledge. It is for instance, 
commonly advisable to seem ignorant of what peo- 
ple offer to tell you ; and when they say, ' Have not 
you heard of such a thing?' to answer, 'No;' and 
to let them go on, though you know it already 
Some have a pleasure in telling it, because the 



KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD, S9 

think they tell it well; others have a pride in it, as 
being the sagacious discoverers; and many have a 
vanity in showing that they have been, though very 
undeservedly, trusted ; all these would be disap- 
pointed, and consequently displeased, if you said, 
'Yes.' Seem always ignorant (unless to one most 
intimate friend) of all matteis of private scandal 
and defamation, though you should hear them a 
thousand times, for the parties affected always look 
upon the receiver to be almost as bad as the thief; 
and whenever they become the topic of conversa- 
tion, seem to be a sceptic, though you are really a 
serious believer; and always take the extenuating 
part. But all this seeming ignorance should be 
joined to thorough and extensive private informa- 
tions; and, indeed, it is the best method of pro- 
curing them ; for most people have such a vanity 
in showing a superiority over others* though but for 
a moment, and in the merest trifles, that they will 
tell you what they should not, rather than not show 
that they can tell what you did not know; beside* 
that such seeming ignorance will make you pass 
for incurious, and consequently undesigning. How 
ever, fish for facts, and take pains to be well inform- 
ed of every thing that passes; but fish judiciously, 
and not always, nor indeed often, in the shape of 
direct questions; which always put people upon 
their guard, and, often repeated, grow tiresome. 
But sometimes take the things that you would know 
for granted ; upon which somebody will, kindly and 
officiously, set you right; sometimes say, that you 
have heard so and so ; and at other times seem to 
know more than you do, in order to know all that 
you want ; but avoid direct questioning as much as 
vou can. 



90 KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. 

Fleocibiiity of manners very useful. 

Human nature is the same all over the world 
but its operations are so varied by education and 
habit, that one must see rt in all its dresses, in or- 
der to be intimately acquainted with it. The pas- 
sion of ambition, for instance, is the same in a 
courtier, a soldier, or an ecclesiastic ; but, from 
their different educations and habits, they will take 
very different methods to gratify it. Civility, which 
is a disposition to accommodate and oblige others, 
is essentially the same in every country ; but good 
breeding, as it is called, which is the manner of 
exerting that disposition, is different in almost 
every country, and merely local ; and every man 
of sense imitates and conforms to that local good 
breeding of the place which he is at. A conform- 
ity and flexibility of manners is necessary in the 
course of the world ; that is, with regard to all 
things which are not wrong in themselves. The 
versatile ingenium is the most useful of all. It 
can turn itself instantly from one object to another, 
assuming the proper manner for each. Tt can be 
serious with the grave, cheerful with the gay, and 
trifling with the frivolous. 

■ Indeed, nothing is more engaging than a cheer- 
ful and easy conformity to people's particular man- 
ners, habits, and even weaknesses ; nothing (to use 
a vulgar expression) should come amiss to a young 
fellow. He should be, for good purposes, what 
Alcibiades was commonly for bad ones, — a Pro- 
teus, assuming with ease, and wearing with cheer- 
fulness, any shape. Heat, cold, luxury, absti- 
nence, gravity, gaiety, ceremony, easiness, learning, 
trifling, business, and pleasure, are modes which he 



KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD. 91 

should be able to take, Jay aside, or change occa 
sionally, with as much ease as he would take or laj 
•aside his hat. 

Spirit. 

Young men are apt to think tffat every thing is ta 
be carried by spirit and vigour ; that art is mean- 
ness, and that versatility and complaisance are the 
refuge of pusillanimity and weakness. This most 
mistaken opinion gives an indelicacy, an abrupt- 
ness and a roughness to the manners. Fools, who 
«an never be undeceived, retain them as long as 
they live ; reflection with a little experience, makes 
men of sense shake them off soon. When they come 
to be a little better acquainted with themselves, and 
with their own species, they discover, that plain 
right reason is, nine times in ten, the fettered and 
shackled attendant of the triumph of the heart -and 
the passions; consequently, they address them- 
selves nine times in tan to the conqueror, not to the 
conquered.: and conquerors, you know, must be 
applied to in the gentlest, the most engaging and 
the >tiO!?t insinuating manner. 

But, unfortunately, young men are as apt to think 
themselves wiss enough, as drunken men are to 
think themselves sob^r enough. They look upon 
spirit to bs a much better thing than experience 
which tlie3 r call coidnecs. They are but half mis- 
taken; for, though spiiit without experience is dan- 
gerous, exporri^me without spirit is languid and de- 
fective. Thrir union, which is very rare, is perfec- 
tion, you nwy jcin them, if you please ; for all my 
experience is at your service; and I do not desire 
one grain of your spirit in return- Use them both, 
tied let them vo~' u ;e C.y animate and check each 
7 E 



g$ EYING. 

other. I meLn here, by the- spirit of youth only the 
viracly end ;>rcsi mT>t«m of youth, which hinde? 
them- from s^eivg the dXSci^lties cr dangers of an< 
«tlde¥takirg: tut I do not mean what the silly vul- 
gar call spirit, by which they are captious, jealous 
of* their rank* suspicious of being undervalued, and 
iart (as thtry call it) in their repartees upon the 
slightest occasion. This is an evil and a very silly 
bpixit, which should be driven out, and transferred- 
to a herd of swine. 

JVever'/ieg'leci eld ccquaintance. 
To conclude : never neglect or despise old, for 
the sake of new cr more shining acquaintance % 
which would be ungrateful on your part, and neve? 
forgiven on theirs. Take care to make as many 
personal friends, and as few personal enemies, a3 
possible. I do not mean by personal friends, inti- 
mate and confidential friends, of which no man can 
hope to have half-a-dozen in the whole course of 
his life ; but I mean friends, in the common accep- 
tation of the word ; that is, people who speak wel? 
©f you, and who would rather do you good than 
harm, consistently with their own interest, and no 
farther. 

LYING* 

Nothing is more criminal, mean, or ridiculous-, 
than lying. It is the production either of malice,. 

* Though lies may sometimes be received for truths j 
yet, after a time, their authors not only forfeit their ere* 
dit, and nobody believes a word that they say, but no one 
can bear to hear them with patience, as being men whose 
words are void of all substance, and to whom no more 
regard ought to be paid, than if they did not spenfc 
at all, but only vented so much breath in the empty alr» 
Qulateo. 



LYING. 93 

cowardice, or vanity ; but it generally misses of its 
aim in every one of these views ; for lies are always 
detected sooner or later. If we advance a malicious 
lie in order to affect any man's fortune or character, 
we may, indeed, injure him for some time, but we 
shall certainly be the greatest sufferers in the end 
for as soon as we are detected, we are blasted for 
the^infamous attempt; and whatever is said after- 
wards to the- disadvantage of that person, however 
true, passes foi calumny. To lie, or to equivocate 
(which is the same thing,) — to excuse ourselves for 
what we have said or done, and to avoid the dan- 
ger or the shame that we apprehend from it, — we 
discover our fear as well as our falsehood, and only 
increase, instead of avoiding, the danger and the 
shame: we show ourselves to be the lowest and 
meanest of mankind, and are sure to be always 
treated as such. If we have the misfortune to be 
in the wrong, there is something noble in frankly 
owning it ; it is the only way of atoning for it, and 
the only way to be forgiven. To remove a present 
danger by equivocating, evading, or shuffling, is 
something so despicable, and betrays so much fear, 
that whoever, practises them deserves to be chas- 
tised. 

There are people who indulge themselves in ano- 
ther sort of lying, which they reckon innocent, and 
which, in one sense, is so : for it hurts nobody but 
themselves : this sort of lying is the spurious 
offspring of vanity begotten upon folly. These peo- 
ple deal in the marvellous : they have seen some 
things that never existed ; they have seen other 
things which they never really saw, though they 
did exist, only because they were thought worth 
seeing. Has any thing remarkable been said or 



94 DIGNITY OF MANNERS. 

done in any place, or in any company, they imme- 
diately present and declare themselves eye or ear 
witnesses of it. They have done feats themselves, 
unattempted, or at least unperformed, by others. 
They are always the heroes of their own fables, and 
think that they gain consideration, or at least pre- 
sent attention, by it: whereas, in truth, all that 
they get is ridicule and contempt, not without a good 
degree of distrust : for one must naturally conclude, 
that he who will tell a lie from iaie vanity, will not 
scruple telling a greater for interest. Had I really 
seen any thing so very extraordinary as to be al- 
most incredible, 1 would keep it to myself, rather, 
than, by telling it, give any one body room to doubt 
for one minute of my veracity. It is most certain, 
that the reputation of chastity is not so necessary for 
a woman, as that of veracity is for a man : and 
with reason : for it is possible for a woman to be 
virtuous, though not strictly chaste ; but it is not 
possible for a man to be virtuous, without strict ve- 
racity. The slips of the poor woman are some- 
times mere bodily frailties ; but a lie in a man is a 
vice in the mind and of the heart. 

Nothing but truth ran carry us through the world 
with either our conscience or our honour unwound- 
ed. It is not only our duty, but our interest ; as a 
proof of which it maybe observed, that the greatest 
fools are the greatest liars. We may safely judge 
of a man's truth by his degree of understanding. 

DIGNITY OF MANNERS. 

A certain dignity of manners is absolutely neces 
sary to make even the most valuable charactei 
cither respected or respectable in the worid. 



DIGNITY Oh MAxNNERS. 95 

Romping, Sfc. 

Horse-play rompkag, ^ciij/rd and laud fits of 
laughter, jokes, "Vcggaiy, and indiscriminate famili- 
arity, will sink both merit and knowledge into a de- 
gree of contempt. They compose, at most, a mer- 
ry fellow; and a merry fellow was never y^i z. res- 
pectable man. Indiscriminate familial ity e/ther 
offends your superiors, or else dubs you their depen- 
dent and led captain. It gives your inferiors just, 
but troublesome and improper, claims of equality. 
A joker is near akin to a buffoon ; and neither of 
them is the least related to wit. Whoever is admit- 
ted or sought for in company, upon any other ac- 
count than that of his merit or manners, is never 
respected there, but only made use of. We will 
have Such-a-one, for he sings prettily ; we will in- 
vite Such-a-one to a ball, for he dances well ; we 
will have Such-a-one at supper, for he is always 
joking and laughing ; we will ask another, because 
he plays deep at all games, or because he can drink 
a great deal. These are all vilifying distinctions, 
mortifying preferences, and exclude all ideas of es- 
teem and regard. Whoever is had (as it is called) 
in company for the sake of any one thing singly, is 
singly that thing, and will never be considered in 
any other light, and consequently never respected, 
let his merits be what they will. 

Pride. 

Dignity of manners is not only as different from 

pride as true courage is from blustering, or true wit 

from joking, but is absolutely inconsistent with it; 

for nothing vilifies and degrades more than pride.* 

* There are people so untractable in their behaviour, 



96 DIGNITY OF MANNERS. 

The pretensions of the proad man are oftner treated 
with sneer and contempt than with indignation ; as 

that there is no possibility of conversing with them upon 
any tolerable terms ; for they always run counter to the 
rest of the company, or make them wait, and never cease 
to incommode and be troublesome to them ; never vouch- 
safing to explain their intentions, or what they would be 
at. Thus, for instance, when every one else is ready to 
sit down to dinner, and the table is covered ; and every 
one is washed, then they, forsooth, as if they were going 
to write something, will call for a pen and ink (or, per- 
haps, for a chamber-pot to make water) ; or will com- 
plain that they have not yet taken their morning's walk, 
and pretend that it is yet time enough to go to dinner ; 
and that the company must wait a little ; and wonder 
what the deuce they are in such a hurry for to-day ! and 
thus they put every one in confusion ; as if they alone 
were of any consequence, and nothing was to be regarded 
but their pleasure and convenience. 

This sort of people expect also to have the preference 
upon every other occasion. Wherever they go, they will 
be sure to make choice cf the best bed-chambers and the 
softest beds: they will sit dov/n in the principal and 
most convenient place at table : in short they expect all 
mankind to be solicitous to obiigs them, as if they alone 
were to be honoured and respected ; yet nothing pleases 
them but what they themselves bsve. contrived or execu- 
ted : they ridicuie others ; and at every kind of diversion, 
whether in the neld or in trie drawing-room, a con- 
stant deference is to be paid to tksm by the rest of the 
world. 

There is another sci ;■? yezilt, "sd yery te«tv, crabbed, 
aiid morose, that no one can ever do any thi-.ig to their 
satisfaction ; and who, whatever is said to them, answer 
with a frowning aspect : neither is there any end of their 
chiding and reproaching their servants. And thus they 
disturb a whole company with continual exclamations of 
this kind : ■ So ! how early you called me up this mora- 



DIGNITY OF MANNERS. 97 

we offer ridiculously too little to a tradesman who 
asks ridiculously too much for his goods : but we do 
«ot haggle with one who only asks a just and rea- 
sonable price. 

Abject flattery. 

Abject flattery and in discriminate ostentation de- 
grade, as much as indiscriminate contradiction and 
noisy debate disgust : but a modest assertion of 
one's own opinion, and a complaisant acquiescence 
to other people's, preserve dignity. 

Vulgar, low expressions, awkward motions and 
address, vilify, as they imply either a very low turn 
of mind, or low education and low company. 

Frivolous curisoity. 

frivolous -curiosity about tribes, and a laborious 
attention to little objects, which neither require nor 
deserve a moment's thought, lower a man, who 
thence is thought (and not unjustly) incapable of 

ing V ' Pray look ; how cleverly you have japanned these 
shoes ? * How well you attended me to church to-day 1* 
■* Xou rascal ! I have a good mind to .give you my fist in 
your chops; I .have, sir. 1 These kind of expostulations 
are extremely odious and disagreeable ; and such people 
ought to be avoided, as one would fly from the plague. 
For though a man may be really, and in his heart, mo- 
dest and humble, arA may have contracted this sort of 
behaviour, sot so much fpom a bad disposition, as from 
aeghgaaeu smd b?£ ks.^it; nevertheless, as he betrays 
evideaz ms.rks of pride ia Li^ external appearance, he 
car:k£>i bit i. =_ke nin-self extremely odious to mankind: 
&t jrri.c«? is 2-C.kij|f leas ilun a contempt of other peo- 
ple; wV»t/eas theses; insignificant person in the world 
fancies himself a man of consequence, and of course en- 
filler! Co rtsipec i . — vGniuie-c- 



98 GENTLENESS OF MANNERS. 

greater matte* £. Cardinal de Rets very sagacious^ 
ly marked oat Cardinal Chigi for a little mind, from 
the moment that he told him lie had written three- 
years with the same pea. and thai it was an excel- 
lent good GElS Still. 

A certain degree cf extsnor seriousness in looks 
and motions gives dignity, without excluding wit 
and decent cheerfulness which are always serious 
themselves. A constant smirk upon the face, and 
a whiffling activity of the body, are strong indica- 
tions of futility. Whoever is in a hurry, shows that 
the thing he is about is too big for him. Haste and 
hurry are very different things. 

To conclude : A man who has patiently been 
kicked may as well pretend to courage, as a man, 
blasted with vices and crimes may to dignity of any 
kind : but an exterior decency and dignity of man- 
ners will even keep such a man longer from sink- 
ing than otherwise he would be ; of such conse- 
quence isdecorum, even though affected and put on,. 

GENTLENESS OF MANNERS WITH FIRM- 
NESS OR RESOLUTION OF MIND. 

I do not know any one rule so unexceptionably 
useful and necessary in every part of life, as to-, 
unite gentleness of manners with firmness of mind. 
The first alone would degenerate and sink into a 
mean, timid complaisance and passiveness, if not 
supported and dignified by the latter; which would 
also deviate into impetuosity and brutality, if not 
tempered and softened by the other: however, they 
are seldom united. The warm, choleric man, with 
strong animal spirits, despises the first, and thinks 
to carry all before him by the last. He may possi- 
bly, by great accident, now and then succeed, whersu 



GENTLENESS OF MANNERS. »* 

he has only weak and timid people to deal with : 
but his general fate will be, to shock, offend, be ha- 
ted, and fail. On the other hand, the cunning, ciaf 
ty man thinks to gain ail his ends by gentleness ot 
manners only : he becomes all things to all men ; he 
seems to have no opinion of his own, and servilely 
adopts the present opinion of the present person ; 
hs insinuates himself only into the esteem of fools, 
but is soon detected, and surely despised by every 
body else. The wise man (who differs as much 
from the cunning as from the eholeric man) alone 
joins softness of manners with firmness of mind. 

Deliver commands with mildness. 

The advantages arising from an union of these 
qualities are equally striking and obvious. For ex- 
ample: if you are in authority, and have a right to 
command, your commands, delivered with mild- 
ness and gentleness, will be willingly, cheerfully, 
and consequently well, obeyed ; whereas, if given 
brutally, they will rather be interrupted than execu 
ted. For a cool, steady resolution should show, 
that where you have a right to command, you will 
be obeyed ; but, at the same time, a gentleness in 
the manner of enforcing that obedience should 
make it a cheerful one, and soften as much as pos» 
sibie the mortifying consciousness of inferiority. 

Ask a favour with softness. 

If you are to ask a favour, or even to solicit you? 
due, you must do it with grace, or you will give 
those who have a mind to refuse you a pretence to 
doit, by resenting the manner: but, on the othe* 
band, you must, by a steady perseverance and de- 
cent tenaciousness, show firmness and resolution, 
E2 



100 GENTLENESS OF MANNERS. 

The right motives are seldom the true ones of men's 
actions, especially of people in high stations, who 
often give to importunity and fear what they would 
refuse to justice or to merit. By gentleness and 
softness engage their hearts, if you can ; at least, 
prevent the pretence of offence : but take care to 
show resolution and firmness enough to extort from 
their love of ease, or their fear, what you might in 
vain hope for from their justice or good nature 
People in high life are hardened to the wants and 
distresses of mankind, as surgeons are to their bo 
dily pains : they see and hear of them all day long, 
and even of so many simulated ones, that they do 
not know which are real and which not. Other 
sentiments are therefore to be applied to than those 
of mere justice and humanity ; their favour must be 
captivated by the graces, their love of ease disturb- 
ed by unwearied importunity, or their fears wrought 
upon by a decent intimation of implacable cool re- 
sentment. This precept is the only way I know in 
the worid of being loved without being despised, 
and feared without being hated : it constitutes the 
dignity of character which erery wise man must 
endeavour to establish. 

Check hastiness of temper. 

To conclude : If you find that you have a hasti- 
ness in your temper, which unguardedly breaks out 
into indif^creet sallies or rough expressions, to either 
your superiors, your equals, or your inferiors, watch 
k narrowly, cheek it carefully, and call the Graces 
to your assistance. At the first impulse of passion, 
be silent, tiU you can be soft. Labour even to get 
the command of your countenance so well, that 
fcbose amotions raav not he t.vjo \n M .; & to ©fit u&- 



GENTLENESS OF MJJXSSSS, 1 01 

gpeakable advantage m business ! On the other 
hard, let no complaisance, no gentleness 01 temper, 
no weak desks' of pleasm 3 , on your part,— no 
wheedling, coaxing, nor Battery, on other people's, 
— ir.-ike you recede one jot from any point that rea- 
son and prudence have, bid yov. pursue ; but remrn 
to the charge, persist, persevere, and you will find 
most things attainable that are possible. A yield- 
ing, timid weakness is always abused and insutod 
by the unjust and the unfeeling: but when sustain- 
ed by firmness and resolution, is always respected 
commonly successful. 

In your friendships and connexions, as well as in 
your enmities, this rule is particularly useful : let 
your firmness and vigour preserve and invite attach- 
ments to you ; but, aV the same time, let your man- 
ner hinder the enemies of your friends and depen- 
dants from becoming yours. Let your enemies be 
disarmed by the gentleness of your manner : but let 
them feel, at the same time, the steadiness of your 
just resentment: for there is great difference be- 
tween bearing malice, which is always ungenerous, 
and a resolute self-defence, which is always pru- 
dent and justifiable. 

Be civil, #c. to rivals or competitors. 
Some people cannot gain upon themselves to be 
easy and civii to those who are either their rivals, 
competitors, or opposers, though, independantly of 
those accidental circumstances, they would like and 
esteem them. They betray a shyness and awk- 
wardness in company with them, and catch at any 
little thing to expose them ; and so, from tempora- 
ry and only occasional opponents, make them their 
personal enemies. This is exceedingly weak and 



102 MORAL CHARACTER. 

detrimental, as, indeed, is all humour in business; 
which can only be carried on successfully by un- 
adulterated good policy and right reasoning. In 
such situations I would be more particularly civil, 
easy, and frank, with the man whose designs I tra- 
versed: this is commonly called generosity and 
magnanimity, but is, in truth, good sense and policy. 
The manner is often as important as the matter, 
sometimes more so : a favour may make an enemy, 
and an injury may make a friend, according to the 
different manner in which they are severally done. 
In fine, gentleness of manners, w.ith firmness of 
mind, is a short but full description of human per- 
fection on this side of religious and moral duties. 

MORAL CHARACTER. 

The moral character of a man should be not only 
pure, but, like Caesar's wife, unsuspected. The 
least speck or blemish upon it is fatal. Nothing de- 
grades and vilifies more; for it excites and unites 
detestation and contempt. There are, however, 
wretches in the world profligate enough to explode 
all notions of moral good and evil : to maintain thaf 
they are merely local, and depend entirely upon the 
customs and fashions of different couiitii&s: nay, 
there are still, if possible, more unaccountable 
wretches ; I mean those who affect to preach and 
propagate such absurd and infamous notions, -vi.tb- 
Gut bsheving them themselves. Avoid, as much a* 
possible, the company of such people, who resist a 
degres of discredit and infamy upon ail who coa 
verse with them. But as you may sometime, by 
accident fall into such company, take great* care 
that no complaisance, no good humour, no warmtl 
or Jt&a] mirth, over make you seem even to cequ; 



MORAL CHARACTER. 103 

escc in, much less approve or applaud, such infa- 
mous doctrines. On the other hand, do not debate 
nor enter into serious argument, upon a subject so 
much below it : but content yourself with telling 
them, that you know they are not serious; that you 
have a much better opinion of them than they 
would have you have ; and that you are very sure 
they would not practise the doctrine they preach. 
But put your private mark upon them, and shun 
them for ever afterward. 

There is nothing so delicate as a man's moral 
character, and nothing which it is his interest so 
much to preserve pure. Should he be suspected of 
injustice, malignity, perfidy, lying, &c. all the parts 
and knowledge in the world will never procure hirn 
esteem, friendship, or respect. 1 therefore recom- 
mend to you a most scrupulous tenderness for your 
moral character, and the utmost care not to say or 
do the least thing that may, ever so slightly, taint 
it. Show yourself, upon all occasions, the friend, 
but not the bully, of virtue. Even Colonel Chartres, 
(who v/as the most notorious basest rascal in the 
world, and who had by all sorts of crimes amassed 
immense wealth,) sensible of the disadvantage of a 
bad character, v/as once heard to say, that, * altho' 
he would not give one farthing for virtue, he would 
give ten thousand pounds for a character, because 
he should get a hundred thousand pounds by it.' 
Is it possible, then that an honest man can neglect 
what a v.he rogue would purchase so dear. 

The?3 h one of the vices above-mentioned, into 
which people of good education, and, in the main, 
of good principles, sometimes fall, from mistaken 
notions of skill, dexterity, and self-defence ; I mean, 
lying ; though it is inseparably attended with more 



i04 COMMON-PLACE OBSERVATIONS. 

infamy and loss than any other. But I have before 
I given you my centimentz vsry freely on this subject ; 
I shs.Il, therefore, conclude this head with entreat- 
ing you to be scrupulously jealous of the purity of 
your moral character : keep it immaculate, unblem- 
ished, unsullied, and tt will be unsuspected. Defa 
maiioa and calumny never attack where there is no 
weak place ; they magnify, but they do net create. 

COMMON-PLACE OBSERVATIONS. 

Never use, believe, or approve, common-place 
observations. They are the common topics of wit- 
lings and coxcombs: those who really have wit have 
the utmost contempt for them, and scorn even to 
laugh at the pert things that those would-be wits say 
upon such subjects. 

Religion. 

Religion is one of their favourite topics : it is all 
priestcraft, and an invention contrived and carried 
on by priests of all religions, for their own power 
and profit. From this absurd and false principle 
flow the common-place insipid jokes and insults 
upon the clergy. With these people, every priest 
of every religion is either a public or a concealed 
unbeliever, drunkard, and whoremaster; whereas, 
I conceive that priests are extremely like other men, 
and neither the better nor the worse for wearing a 
gown or a surplice ; but if they are different from 
other people, probably it is rather on the side of re- 
ligion and morality, or at least decency, from their 
education and manner of life.* 

* Nothing ought, on any account, to be spoken profane* 
Iv of God or his saints, whether seriously, or by way of 



COMMON-PLACE OBSERVATIONS. 10& 

Matrimony 

Another common topic for false wit and cold 
raillery is matrimony. Every man and his wife 
hate each other cordially, whatever they may pre- 
tend in public to the contrary. The husband cer- 
tainly wishes his wife at the devil, and the wife cer- 
tainly cuckolds her husband. Whereas I presume, 
that men and their wives neither love nor hate each 
other the more, upon account of the form of matri- 
mony which has been said over them. The co- 
habitation, indeed, which is the consequence of 
matrimony, makes them either love or hate more 
accordingly as they respectively deserve it : but 
that would be exactly the same between any man 

joke; however lightly some people may think of the af- 
fair, or how much pleasure soever they may take in this 
practice; for to speak ludicrously of the Divine being, or 
of things sacred, is not only the vice of the most profligate 
and impious rakes, but a sure indication of an ill-bred, ig- 
norant fellow. Indeed, to hear any thing spoken irrever- 
ently of God, is so extremely shocking, that you meet with 
many people who on such occasions will immediately 
leave the room. 

Nor ought we only to speak reverently of the Deity, 
but in all our conversations we ought to take all possible 
care that our words do not betray any thing loose or vi 
cious in our lives and actions ; for men detest in others 
those vices which even they themselves are guilty of. 

In like manner, it is unpolite to talk of things unsuitable 
to the time when they are spoken, and to the persons who 
are to hear us, though the things in themselves, and when 
spoken in a proper place, may be really good and virtu- 
ous. A truce, therefore, with your grave discourses on 
sacred and religious subjects, in an assembly of young 
people, who are met together to be joyous and cheerful.— 
Galateo, 



i06 COMMON-PLACE OBSERVATIONS. 

and woman who lived together without being mar- 
ried. 

Courts and cottages. 

It is also a trite common-place observation, that 
courts are the seats of falsehood and dissimulation. 
That, like many, 1 might say most, common-place 
observations, is false. Falsehood and dissimulation 
are certainly to be found at courts ; but where are 
they not to be found ? Cottages have them, as well 
as courts ; only with worse manners. A couple of 
neighbouring farmers in a village will contrive and 
practise as many tricks to over-reach each other at 
the next market, or to supplant each other in the 
favour of the 'squire, as any two courtiers can do, 
to supplant each other in the favour of their prince 
Whatever poets may write, or fools believe, of ru- 
ral innocence and truth, and of the perfidy of courts, 
this is undoubtedly true,— That shepherds and 
ministers are both men ; theii nature and passions 
the same, the modes of them only different. 

These and many other common-place reflections 
upon nations or professions, in general, (which are 
at least as often false as true,) are the poor refuge 
of people who have neither wit nor invention of 
their own, but endeavour to shine in company by 
second-hand finery. I always put these pert jack- 
anape's out of countenance, by looking extremely 
grave, when they expect that I should laugh at their 
pleasantries ; and by saying, * Well, and so V as 
if they had not done, and that the sting were still to 
come. This disconcerts them ; as they have no re- 
sources in themselves, and have but one set of jokes 
to live upon. Men of parts are not reduced to these 
shifts, and have the utmost contempt for them: 
they find proper subjects enough for either useful 



ORATORY. 107 

or lively conversation ; they can be witty without 
satire or common-place, and serious without being 
dull. 

ORATORY. 

Oratory, or the art of speaking well, is useful in 
e/ery situation of life, and absolutely necessary hi 
most. A man cannot distinguish himself without 
it, in parliament, in the pulpit, or at the bar ; and 
even in common conversation, he who has acquired 
an easy and habitual eloquence, and who speaks 
with propriety and accuracy, v/ill have a great ad- 
vantage ov?r those who speak inelegantly and in- 
correctly. The business of oratory is to persuade ; 
and to please is the most effectual step towards per- 
suading. It is very advantageous for a man who 
speaks in public, to please his hearers so much as 
to gain their attention ; which he cannot possibly 
do without the assistance of oratory. 

It is certain, that by study and application every 
man may make himself a tolerably good orator ; 
eloquence depending upon observation and care. 
Every man may, if he pleases, make choice of good 
instead of bad words and phrases, may speak with 
propriety instead of impropriety, and may be clear 
and perspicuous in his recitals, instead of dark and 
unintelligible ; he may have grace instead of awk- 
wardness in his gestures and deportment : in short, 
it is in the power of every man, with pains and ap- 
plication, to be a very agreeable, instead of a very 
disagreeable, speaker ; and it is well worth the la- 
bour to excel other men in that particular article in 
which they excel beasts. 

Demosthenes thought it so essentially necessary 
to speak well, that, though he naturally stuttered, 
8 



108 ORATORY. 

and had weak lungs, he resolved, by application, t& 
overcome those disadvantages. He cured his stam- 
mering by putting small pebbles in his mouth ; and 
gradually strengthened his lungs, by daily using 
himself to speak loudly and distinctly for a consi- 
derable time. In stormy weather he often visited 
the sea-shore, where he spoke as loud as he could, 
in order to prepare himself for the noise and mur- 
murs of the popular assemblies of the Athenians, 
before whom he was to speak. By this extraordi- 
nary care and attention, and the constant study of 
the best authors, he became the greatest orator thai 
his own or any other age or country has produced. 

Whatever language a person uses, he shoulo 
speaK it in its greatest purity, and according to the 
rules of grammar : nor is it sufficient that we do not 
speak a language ill, we must endeavour to speak 
it well ; for which purpose, we should read the best 
authors with attention, and observe how people of 
fashion and education speak. Common people, in 
general, speak ill ; they make use of inelegant and 
vulgar expressions, which people of rank never do. 
In numbers, they frequently join the singular and 
the plural together, and confound the masculine 
with the feminine gender, and seldom make choice 
of the proper tense. To avoid all thes? faults, we 
should read with attention, and observe the turn 
and expressions of the best authors ; nor should we 
pass over a word we do not perfectly understand, 
without searching or inquiring for the exact mean- 
ing of it. 

It is said that a man must be born a poet, but it 
is in his power to make himself an orator ; for, to 
be a poet, requires a certain degree of strength and 
vivacity of mind ; but attention, reading, and la- 
bour, are sufficient to form an orator. 



109 



PEDANTRY. 



Every excellency, and every virtue, has its kin- 
dred vice or weakness; and if carried beyond cer- 
tain bounds, sinks into the one or the other. Gene- 
rosity often runs into profusion, economy into ava- 
rice, courage into rashness, caution into timidity, 
and so on ; — insomuch that, I believe, there is moie 
judgment required for the proper conduct of our 
virtues, than for avoiding their opposite vices. 
Vice, in its true light, is so deformed, that it shocks 
at first sight ; and would hardly ever seduce us, if 
it did not, at first, wear the mask of some virtue. 
But virtue is, in itself, so beautiful, that it charms 
us at first sight ; engages us more and more, upon 
farther acquaintance ; and, as with other beauties, 
we think excess impossible : it is here that judg- 
ment is necessary to moderate and direct the effects 
of an excellent cause. In the same manner, great 
learning, if not accompanied with sound judg- 
inent, frequently carries us into error, pride, and 
edantry. 

Never pronounce arbitrarily. 
Some learned men, proud of their knowledge, 
Duly speak to decide, and give judgment without 
appeal ; the consequence of which is, that man- 
kind, provoked by the insult, and injured by the op- 
pression, revolt ; and, in order to shake off the ty- 
ranny, even call the lawful authority in question. 
The more you know, the modester you should be ;* 
and that modesty is the surest way of gratifying 
your vanity. Even where you are sure, seem ra- 
ther doubtful ; represent, but do not pronounce ; 
and, if you would convince others, seem open to 
conviction yourself. 



110 PEDANTRY. 

Affect not to "prefer the ancients to moderns. 

Others, to show their learning, or often from the 
prejudices of a school-education, where they hear 
of nothing else, are always talking of the ancients 
as something more than men, and of the moderns 
as something less. They are never without a clas- 
sic or two in their pockets ; they stick to the old 
good sense; they read none of the modern trash ; 
and will show you plainly, that no improvement 
has been made, in anv one art or science, these last 
seventeen hundred years. I would by no means 
have you disown your acquaintance with the an- 
cients; but still less would I have you brag of an 
exclusive intimacy with them. Speak of the mo- 
derns without contempt, and of the ancients with- 
out idolatry ; judge them all by their merits, but 
not by their ages ; and if you happen to have an 
Elzevir classic in your pocket, neither show it nor 
mention it. 

Reason not from ancient authenticity. 

Some great scholars, most absurdly, draw all 
their maxims, both for public and private life, from 
what they call parallel cases in the ancfent au- 
thors ; without considering, that, in the first place, 
there never were, since the creation of the world, 
two cases exactly parallel ! and, in the n«xt place, 
that there never was a case stated, or even known, 
by any historian, with every one of its circumstan- 
ces: which, however, ought to be known, in order 
to be reasoned from. Reason upon the case itself 
and the several circumstances that attend it, and 
act accordingly; but not from the authority of an- 
cient poets or historians. Take into your consi- 



PLEASURE, 1U 

deration, if you please, cases seemingly analogous ; 
but take them as helps only, not as guides. 

Abstain from learned ostentation. 

There is another species of learned men, who, 
though less dogmatical and supercilious, are not 
less impertinent. These are the communicative 
and shining pedants, who adorn their conversation, 
even with women, by happy quotations of Greek 
and Latin, and who have contracted such a famili- 
arity with the Greek and Roman authors, that they 
call them by certain names or epithets denoting in- 
timacy; as old Homer; that sly rogue Horace; 
Maro, instead of Virgil ; Naso, instead of Ovid. 
These are often imitated by coxcombs who have no 
learning at all ; but who have got some names and 
some scraps of ancient authors by heart, which they 
improperly and impertinently retail in all compa- 
nies, in hopes of passing for scholars. If, there- 
fore, you would avoid the accusation of pedantry 
on one hand, or the suspicion of ignorance on the 
othsr, abstain from learned ostentation. Speak the 
language of the company you are in ; speak it pure- 
ly, and unlarded with any other. Never seem 
wiser nor more learned than the people you are 
with. Wear your learning, like your watch, in a 
private pocket; and do not pull it out, and strike 
it, merely to show that you have one. If you are 
asked, what o'clock it is, tell it ; but do not proclaim 
it h;ivly and unasked, like the watchman. 

PLEASURE. 

Maht young people adopt pleasures, for which 
they hava not ihe least taste, only because they are 
called by that name. They often mistake so total- 



112 PLEASURE. 

ly, as to imagine that debauchery is pleasure. 
Drunkenness, which is equally destructive to body 
f*id mind, is certainly a fine pleasure! Gaming, 
^ Aiuh draws us into a thousand scrapes, leaves us 
pgjMiyless. and gives us the air and manners of an 
outrageous madman, is another most exquisite 
pleasure! 

Pleasure is the rock which most young people 
splk upon ; they launch out with crowded sails in 
""(ju'-st of it, but without a compass to direct their 
co'irsa, or reason sufficient to steer the vessel; 
therefore pain and shame, instead of pleasure, are 
thi returns of their voyage. 

A man of pleasure, in the vulgar acceptation of 
that phrase, means only a beastly drunkard, an 
abandoned rake, and a profligate swearer. We 
should weigh the present enjoyment of our plea- 
sures against the unavoidable consequences of 
them, and then let our common sense determine 
the choice. 

We may enjoy the pleasures of the table and 
wine, but stop short of the pains inseparably an- 
nexed to an excess in either. We may let othei 
people do as they will, without formally and sen 
tentiously rebuking them for it ; but we must be 
firmly resolved not to destroy our own faculties and 
constitution, in compliance to those who have no 
regard to their own. We may play to give us plea- 
sure, but not to give us pain ; we play for trifles m 
mixed companies, to amuse ourselves and conform 
to custom. Good company are not fond of having 
a man reeling drunk among them ; nor is it agree- 
able to see another tearing his hair and blasphe- 
ming, for having lost, at play, more than he is able 
to pay ; os a rake, with half a nose, crippled by 



PLEASURE. 113 

coarse and infamous debauches. Those who prac- 
tise and brag of these things make no part of good 
company ; and are most unwillingly, if ever, ad- 
mitted into it. A real man of fashiou and pleasure 
observes decency ; at least, he neither borrows nor 
affects wees : and if he is so unfortunate as to have 
any, he gratifies them with chcise, delicacy, and 
secrecy. 

We should be as attentive to our pleasures as to 
our studies. In the latter,, we should observe and 
reflect upon all we read ; and, in the former, be 
watchful and attentive to every thing we see and 
hear ; and let us never have it to say, as some fools 
do, of things that were said and done before their 
faces, ' That indeed they did not mind them, be- 
cause they were thinking cf something else.' Why 
were they thinking of something else? And if 
they were, why did they come there ? Wherever 
we are, we should (as it is vulgarly expressed) 
have our ears and our eyes about us. We should 
listen to every thing that is said, and see every 
tiling that is done. Let us observe without being 
thought observers; for otherwise people will be up- 
on their guard before us. 

Ail gaming, field-sports, and such other amuse- 
ments, where neither the understanding nor the 
senses have the least share, are frivolous, and the 
resources of little minds, who either do not think or 
<3o not love to think. But the pleasures of a man 
4)f parts either Matter the senses or improve the 
mind. 

There are liberal and illiberal pleasures, as well 
as liberal and illiberal arts. Sottish drunkenness, 
indiscriminate gluttony, driving coaches, rustic 
-sports, such as lox chases^ horse races, &c. are in- 



114 PREJUDICES. 

finitely below the honest and industrious profes* 
sions of a tailor and shoe maker. 

The more we apply to business, the more we re- 
lish our pleasures : the exercise of the mind in the 
morning, by study, whets the appetite for the plea- 
sures of the evening, as the exercise of the body 
whets the appetite for dinner. Business and plea?* 
sure rightly understood, mutually assist each other, 
instead of being enemies, as foolish or oV>ll people 
often think them. We cannot taste pleasures truly, 
unless we earn them by previous business; and 
few people do business well, who do nothing else. 
But when I speak of pleasures, I always mean the 
elegant pleasures of a rational being, and not the- 
brutal ones of swine. 

PREJUDICES. 

Never adopt the notions of any books yo*i may 
read, or of any company you may keep, without ex- 
amining whether they are just or not ; as }^ou wili 
otherwise be liable to be hurried away by prejudi- 
ces, instead of being guided by reason, and quietly 
cherish error, instead of seeking for truth. 

Use and assert your own reason ; reflect, ex- 
amine, and analyse, every thing, in order to rom* 
a sound and mature judgment; let no ipse dixit 
impose upon your understanding, mislead your ac- 
tions, or dictate your conversation. Be early what* 
if you are not, you will, when too late, wish you had 
been. Consult your reason betimes : I do not say 
that it will always prove an unerring guide, for hu- 
man reason is not infallible ; but it will prove the 
least erring guide that you can follow. Books and 
conversation may assist it ; but adopt neither^blind- 
Sy and implicitly : try both by that best rule,, whicb 



RELIGION. 115 

God has given to direct us, — reason. Of all the 
troubles, do not decline, as many people do, that of 
thinking. The herd of mankind can hardly be said 
to think; their notions are almost all adoptive; 
and, in general, I believe it is better that it should 
be so; as such common prejudices contribute more 
to order and quiet, than their own separate reason- 
ings would do, uncultivated and unimproved as 
they are. 

Local prejudices prevail only with the herd of 
mankind, and do not impose upon cultivated, in- 
formed, and reflecting minds : but then there are 
notions equally false, though not so glaringly ab- 
surd, which are entertained by people of superior 
and improved understandings, merely for want 
of the necessary pains to investigate, the proper at- 
tention to examine, and the penetration requisite to 
determine, the truth. Those are the prejudices 
which I would have you guard against by a manly 
exertion and attention of your reasoning faculty 
RELIGION. 

Errors and mistakes, however gross, in matters 
of opinion, if they are sincere, are to be pitied, but 
not punished nor laughed at. The blindness of 
the understanding is as much to be pitied as the 
blindness of the eyes; and it is neither laughable 
nor criminal for a man to lose his way in either 
case. Charity bids us endeavour to set him right, 
by arguments and persuasions , but charity, at the 
same time, forbids us either to punish or ridicule 
his misfortune. Every man seeks for truth, but 
God only knows who has found it. It is unjust to 
persecute and absurd to ridicule people for their se- 
veral opinions,which they cannot help entertaining 



116 EMPLOYMENT OF TIME. 

upon the conviction of their reason. It is he who 
tells or acts a lie that is guilty, and not he who ho- 
nestly and sincerely believes the lie. 

The object of all public worships in the world 
is the same; it is that great Eternal Being who cre- 
ated every thing. The different manners of wor- 
ship are by no means subjects of ridicule. Each 
sect thinks his own the best ; and I know no infal- 
lible judg^in this world to decide which is the best. 

EMPLOYMENT OF TIME. 

How little do we reflect on the use and value of 
time! it is in every body's mouth, but in few peo- 
ple's practice. Every fool, who slatterns away his 
whole time in nothings, frequently utters some trite 
common-place sentence to prove, at once, the value 
and the fleetness of time. The sun dials, all over 
Europe, have some ingenious inscription to that ef- 
fect; so that nobody squanders away their time 
without frequently hearing and seeing how neces- 
sary it is to employ it well, and how irrecoverable 
it is if lost. Young people are apt to think they 
have so much time before them, that they may 
squander what they please of it, and yet have 
enough left; as great fortunes have frequently sedu- 
ced people to a ruinous profusion. But all these ad- 
monitions are useless, where there is not a fund of 
good sense and reason to suggest rather than re- 
ceive them. 

Idleness. 

Time is precious, life short, and consequently not 
a single moment should be lost. Sensible men know 
how to make the most of time, and put out their whole 
sum either to interest or pleasure : they are never 



EMPLOYMENT OF TIME. 117 

idle, but continually employed either in amuse- 
ments or study. It is an universal maxim, that 
idleness is the mother of vice. It is, however, cer- 
tain, that laziness is the inheritance of fools, and 
nothing can be so despicable as a sluggard. Cato, 
the censor, a wise and virtuous Roman, used to 
say, there were but three actions of his life that he 
regretted : the first was, the having revealed a sc- 
ciet to his wife ; the second, that he had once gone 
by sea when he might have gone by land ; and the 
third, the having passed one day without doing any 
thing. 

Reading. 

* Take care of the pence ; for the pounds will 
take care of themselves ;' was a very just and sen- 
sible reflection of old Mr. Lowndes, the famous se- 
cretary of the Treasury under William III., Anne, 
and George I. I therefore recommend to you to 
take care of minutes ; for hours will take care of 
themselves. Be doing something or other all day 
long ; and not neglect half-hours, and quarters of 
hours, which, at the year's end, amount to a great 
sum, For instance : there are many short inter- 
vals in the day, between studies and pleasures ; in- 
stead of sitting idle and ya\vning,in those intervals, 
snatch up some valuable book, and continue the 
reading of that book till you have got through it : 
never burden your mind with more than one thing 
at a time; and, in reading this book, do not run 
over it superficially', but read every passage twice 
over, at least ; do not pass on to a second, till you 
thoroughly understand the first, nor quit the book 
till you are master of the subject; for unless you do 
this, you may read it through, and not remember 



118 EMPLOYMENT OF TIME. 

the contents of it for a week. The books I would 
particularly recommend, amongst others, are the 
Marchioness Lambert's Advice to her Son and 
Daughter, Cardinal Retz'sMaxims, Rochefoucault's 
Moral Reflections, Bruyere's Characters, Fonte- 
nelle's Plurality of Worlds, Sir Josiah Child on 
Trade, Bolingbroke's Works: for style, his Re- 
marks on the History of England, under the name 
of Sir John Oldcastle; PurTendorf 's Jus Gentium, 
and Grotius de Jure Belli et Pacis : the last two are 
well translated by Barbeyrac. For occasional half 
hours or less, read works of invention, wit, and hu- 
mour: but never waste your minutes on trifling au- 
thors, either ancient or modern. 

Nor are pleasures idleness or time lost, provided 
they are the pleasures of a rational being : on the 
contrary, a certain portion of time employed in 
those pleasures is very usefully employed. 

Transacting business. 
Whatever business you have, do it the first mo- 
ment you can ; never by halves, but finish it with- 
out interruption, if possible. Business must not be 
sauntered and trifled with ; and you must not say 
to it, as Felix did to Paul, < At a more convenient 
season I will speak to thee.' The most convenient 
season for business is the first; but study and busi- 
ness, in some, measure, point out their own times to 
a man of sense ; time is much oftener squandered 
away in the wrong choice and improper methods of 
amusement arid pleasures. 

Method. 

Dispatch is the soul of business ; and nothing con- 
trib tes more to dispatch than method. Lay down 



EMPLOYMENT OF TIME. 119 

a method for every thing, and stick to it inviolably, 
as far as unexpected incidents may allow. Fix one 
certain hour and day in the week for your accounts, 
and keep them together in their proper order ; by 
which means they will require very little time, and 
you can never be much cheated. Whatever letters 
and papers you keep, docket and tie them up in 
their respective classes, so that you may instantly 
have recourse to any one. Lay down a method al- 
so for your reading, for which you allot a certain 
share of your mornings ; let it be in a consistent and 
consecutive course, and not in that desultory and 
irnmethodical manner, in which many people read 
scraps of different authors upon different subjects. 
Keep a useful and short common-place book of what 
you read, to help your memory only, and not for 
pedantic quotations. Never read history without 
having maps, and a chronological book or tables 
lying by you, and constantly recurred to ; without 
which, history is only a confused heap of facts. 

You will say, it may be, as many young people 
would, that all this order and method is very trou- 
blesome, only fit for dull people, and a disagreeable 
restraint upon the noble spirit and fire of youth. 
I deny it;, and assert, on the contrary, that it will- 
procure you both more time and more taste for 
your pleasures; and, so far from being troublesome 
to you, that, after you have pursued it a month, it 
would be troublesome to you to lay it aside. Busi- 
ness whets the appetite, and gives a taste to plea- 
sures, as exercise does to food; and business can 
never be done without method : it raises the spirits 
for pleasures : and a spectacle, a ball, an assembly, 
will much more sensibly affect a man who has em- 
ployed, than a man who has lost the preceding part 



120 EMPLOYMENT OF TIME. 

of the day ; nay, I will venture to say, that a fine 
lady will seem to have more charms to a man of 
study or business than to a saunterer. The same 
listlessne&s runs through his whole conduct; and 
he is as insipid in his pleasures, as inefficient in 
every thing else 

I hope you earn your pleasures, and consequent- 
ly taste them ; for, by the way, I know a great 
many men who call themselves men of pleasure, 
but who, in truth, have none. They adopt other 
people's indiscriminately, but without any taste of 
their own. I have known them often inflict exces- 
ses upon themselves, because they thought them 
genteel ; though they sat as awkwardly upon them 
as other people's clothes would have done. Have 
no pleasures but your own, and then you will shine 
in them. 

Many people think that they are in pleasures 
provided they are neither in study nor in business. 
Nothing like it ; they are doing nothing, and might 
just as well be asleep. They contract habitudes 
from laziness, and they only frequent those places 
where they are free from all restraints and atten- 
tions. Be upon your guard against this idle profu- 
sion of time ; and let every place you go to be either 
the scene of quick and lively pleasures, or the 
school of your improvements ; let every company 
you go into, either gratify your senses, extend your 
knowledge, or refine your manners. 

If, by accident, two or three hours are sometimes 
wanting for some useful purpose, borrow them from 
your sleep. Six, or at most seven, hours sleep is, 
for a constancy, as much as you or any body can 
want: more is only laziness and dozing, and is 
both unwholesome and stupifying. If, by chance, 



EMPLOYMENT OF TIME. 121 

your business or your pleasures should keep you 
up till four or five o'clock in the morning, rise ex- 
actly at your usual time, that you may not lose the 
precious morning hours ; and that the want of sleep 
may force you to go to bed earlier the next night. 

Guard against frivolousn&ss. 

Above all things, guard against frivolousness. 
The frivolous mind is always busied, but to little 
purpose : it takes little objects for great ones, and 
throws away upon tiifles that time and attention 
which only important things deserve. Nicknacks, 
butterflies, shells, insects, &c. are the objects oi 
their most serious researches. They contemplate 
the dress, not the characters cf the company they 
keep. They attend more to the decorations of a 
play, than to the sense of it ; and to the ceremonies 
of a court, more than to its politics. Such an em- 
ployment of time is an absolute loss of it. 

To conclude this subject : sloth, indolence, and 
effeminacy, are pernicious, and unbecoming a 
young fellow ; let them be your resource forty years 
hence at soonest. Determine, at all events, and 
however disagreeable it may be to you in some res- 
pects, and for some time, to keep the most distin- 
guished and fashionable company of the place you 
are at, either for their rank or for their learning, or 
le bel esprit et le gout This gives you credentials 
to the best companies, wherever you go afterward. 

Know the true value of time; snatch, seize, and 
enjoy, every moment of it. No idleness, no lazi- 
ness, no procrastination ; never put off till to-mor- 
row what you can do to-day. That was the rule 
of the famous and unfortunate pensionary De Witt ; 
who, by strictly following it, found time not only to 



122 VANITY. 

do the whole business of the republic, but to pass 
his evenings at assemblies and suppers, as if he had 
nothing else to do or think of. 

VANITY. 

Be extremely on your guard against vanity, the 
common failing of inexperienced youth ; but parti- 
cularly against that kind of vanity that dubs a man 
a coxcomb ; a character which, once acquired, is 
more indelible than that of priesthood. It is not to 
be imagined by how many different ways vanity 
defeats its own purposes. One man decides pe- 
remptorily upon every subject, betrays his igno- 
rance upon many, and shows a disgusting presump- 
tion upon the rest ; another desires to appear suc- 
cessful among the women : he hints at the encou 
ragement he has received from those of the most 
distinguished rank and beauty, and intimates a par- 
ticular connexion with some one ; if it is true, it is 
ungenerous ; if false, i A is infamous ; but, in either 
case, he destroys the reputation he wants to get. 
Some flatter their vanity by little extraneous ob- 
jects, which have not the least relation to them- 
selves ; such as being descended from, related to, 
or acquainted with, people of distinguished merit 
and eminent characters. They talk perpetually of 
their grandfather Such-a-one, their uncle Such-a- 
one, whom, possibly,, they are hardly acquainted 
with. But admitting it all to be as they would have 
it, what then ? Have they the more merit for those 
accidents ? Certainly not. On the contrary, their 
taking up adventitious, proves their want of intrin- 
sic merit; a rich man never borrows. Take this 
rule for granted, as a never failing one, that you 
must never seem to affect the character in which 



VIRTUE. 123 

you have a mind to shine. Modesty is the only sure 
bait, when you angle for praise. The affectation 
of courage will make even a brave man pass only for 
a bully ; as the affectation of wit will make a man 
of parts pass for a coxcomb. By this modesty 
I do not mean timidity and awkward bashfulness. 
On the contrary, be inwardly firm and steady ; 
know your own value, whatever it may be, and 
act upon that principle; but take great care to 
let nobody discover that you do know your own 
value. Whatever real merit you have, other peo- 
ple will discover ; and people always magnify 
their own discoveries, as they lessen those of others. 

VIRTUE. 

Virtue is a subject which deserves your and 
every man's attention. It consists in doing good 
and in speaking truth ; the effects of it, therefore, 
are advantageous to all mankind, and to one's self 
in particular. Virtue makes us pity and relieve the 
misfortunes of mankind ; it makes us promote jus- 
tice and good order in society ; and, in general, con- 
tributes to whatever tends to the real good of man 
kind. To ourselves it gives an inward comfort and 
satisfaction, which nothing else can do, and which 
nothing else can rob us of. All other advantages 
depend upon otners, as much as upon ourselves* 
Riches, power, and greatness, may be taken away 
from us by the violence and injustice of others, or 
by inevitable accidents; but virtue depends only 
upon ourselves, and nobody can take it away from 
us. Sickness /nay deprive us of all the plea€ures 
of the body ; but it cannot deprive us of our virtue, 
nor of the satisfaction which we feel from it. A 
virtuous man, under all the misfortunes of life, still 
9 F2 



124 VIRTUE. 

finds an inward comfort and satisfaction, which 
make him happier than any wicked man can be 
with all the other advantages of life. If a man has 
acquired great power and riches by falsehood, injus- 
tice, and oppression, he cannot enjoy them, be- 
cause his conscience will torment him, and con- 
stantly reproach him with the means by which he 
got them. The stings of his conscience will not 
even let him sleep quietly, but he will dream of his 
crimes ; and, in the day-time, when alone, ami 
when he has time to think, he will be uneasy and 
melancholy. He is afraid of every thing; for, as 
he knows mankind must hate him, he has reason 
to thmk they will hurt him if they can. Whereas, 
if a virtuous man be ever so poor and unfortunate 
m the world, still his virtue is its own reward, and 
will comfort him under all afflictions. The quiet 
and satisfaction of his conscience make him cheer- 
ful by day and sleep sound at nights: he can be 
alone with pleasure, and is not afraid of his own 
thoughts. Virtue forces he)c way, and shines 
through the obscurity of a retired life ; and, sooner 
or later, it always is rewarded. 

To conclude : — Lord Shaftesbury says, that he 
would be virtuous for his own sake, though nobody 
were to know it ; as he would be clean for his own 
sake, though nobody were to see him. 



■>. 



USEFUL 
MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS 

ON 

MEN AND MANNERS. 

SELECTED FROM LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS. 



A man who does not solidly establish, and really 
deserve, a character of truth, probity, good man- 
ners, and good morals, at his first setting out in the 
world, may impose, and shine like a meteor for a 
very short time, but will very soon vanish and be 
extinguished with contempt. People easily pardon 
in young men the common irregularities of the sen- 
ses ; but they do not forgive the least vice of the 
heart. 

The greatest favours may be done so awkward- 
ly and bunglingly as to offend ; and disagreeable 
things may be done so agreeably as almost to oblige. 
There are very few captains of foot who are not 
much better company than ever Descartes or Sir 
Isaac Newton were. I honour and respect such 
superior geniuses; but I desire to converse with 
people of this world, who bring into company their 
share, at least of cheerfulness, good breeding, and 
knowledge of mankind. In common life, one much 
oftener wants small money and silver than gold. — 
Give me a man who has ready cash about him for 
present expenses ; sixpences, shillings, half-crowns, 



126 MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 

and crowns, which circulate easily : but a man 
who has only an ingot of gold about him, is much 
above common purposes, and his riches are not 
handy nor convenient. Have as much gold as you 
please in one pocket, but take care always to keep 
change in the other; for you will much oftenerhave 
occasion for a shilling than for a guinea. 

Advice is seldom welcome ; and those who want 
it the most, always like it the least. 

Envy is one of the meanest and most tormenting 
of all passions, as there is hardly a person existing 
that has not given uneasiness to an envious breast ; 
for the envious man cannot be happy while he be- 
holds others so 

A great action will always meet with the appro- 
bation of mankind, and the inward pleasure which 
it produces is not to be expressed. 

Humanity is the particular characteristic of great 
minds : little, vicious minds abound with anger and 
revenge, and are incapable of feeling the exalted 
pleasure of forgiving their enemies. 

The ignorant and the weak only are idle ; those 
who have acquired a good stock of knowledge al- 
ways desire to increase it. Knowledge is like power 
in this respect,— that those who have the most are 
most desirous of having more. Idleness is only the 
refuge of weak minds and the holiday of fools. 

Every man has a natural right to his liberty ; and 
whoever endeavours to ravish it from him, deserves 
death more than the robber who attacks us for our 
money on the highway. 

Modesty is a commendable quality, and general- 
ly accompanies true merit : it engages and capti- 
vates the minds of people ; for nothing is more 
shocking and disgustful than presumption and im- 



MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 127 

pudence. A man is despised who is always com- 
mending himself, and who is the hero of his own 
story. 

Not to perform our promise, is a folly, a dishon- 
our, and a crime. It is a folly, because no one will 
rely on us afterwards ; and it is a dishonour and a 
crime, because truth is the first duty of religion and 
morality: and whoever is net possessed of truth 
cannot be supposed to have any one good quality, 
and must be held in detestation by all good men. 

Wit may create many admirers, but makes few 
friends. It shines and dazzles, like the noon-day 
sun ; but, like that too, is very apt to scorch, and 
therefore is always feared. The milder morning 
and evening light and heat of that planet soothe and 
calm our minds. Never seek for wit : if it presents 
itself, well and good ; but even in that case let your 
judgment interpose; and take care that it be not 
at the expense of any body. Pope says very truly, 

* There are whom heaven has blest with store of wit, 
Yet want as much again to govern it.' 

And in another place, I doubt with too much truth, 

' For wit and judgment ever are at strife, 
Though meant each other's aid, like man and wife.* 

A proper secrecy is the only mystery of able 
men ; mystery is the only secrecy of weak and 
cunning men. 

To tell any friend, wife, or mistress, any secret 
with which they have nothing to do, is discovering 
to them such an unretentive weakness, as must con- 
vince them that you will tell it to twenty others, 
and consequently that they may reveal it without 
the risk of being discovered. But a secret properly 



128 MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 

communicated, only to those who are to be con 
cerned in the question, will probably be kept by 
them, though they should be a good many. Little 
secrets are commonly told again, but great ones ge- 
nerally kept. 

A man who tells nothing, or who tells all, will 
equally have nothing told him. 

If a fool knows a secret, he tells it because he is a 
fool ; if a knave knows one, he tells it wherevei it 
is his interest to tell it. But women and young 
men are very apt to tell what secrets they know, 
from the vanity of having been trusted. Trust none 
of these, wherever you can help it. 

In your friendships, and in your enmities, let 
your confidence, and your hostilities have certain 
bounds ; make not the former dang-erous, nor the 
latter irreconcilable. There are strange vicissitudes 
in business 

Smoothe your way to the head through the heart. 
The way of reason is a good one; but it is com- 
monly something longer, and perhaps not so sure. 

Spirit is now a very fashionable word : To act 
with spirit, to speak with spirit, means only to act 
rashly, and to talk indiscreetly. An able man shows 
his spirit by gentle words and resolute actions ; he 
is neither hot nor timid. 

Patience is a most necessary qualification for bu- 
siness; many a man would rather you heard his 
story than granted his request. One must seem to 
hear the unreasonable demands of the petulant un- 
moved, and the tedious details of the dull untired. 
This is the least price that a man must pay for a 
high station. 

It is always right to detect a fraud, and to per- 
ceive a folly ; but it is often very wrong to expose 



MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 129 

either. A man of business should always have his 
eyes open, but must often seem to have them shut. 

In courts (and every where else) bashfulness and 
timidity are as prejudicial on one hand, as impu- 
dence and rashness are on the other. A steady 
assurance and a cool intrepidity, with an exterior 
modesty, are the true and necessary medium. 

Never apply for what you see very little proba- 
bility of obtaining ; for you will, by asking impro- 
per and unattainable things, accustom the ministers 
to refuse you so often, that they will find it easy to 
refuse you the properest and most reasonable ones. 
It is a common but a most mistaken rule at court, 
to ask for every thing in order to get something 
you do get something by h, it is true ; but that some- 
thing is refusals and ridicule. This maxim, like 
the former, is of general application. 

A cheerful, easy countenance and behaviour are 
very useful : they make fools thirik you a good-na 
tured man, and they make designing men think you 
an undesigning one 

There are some occasions in which a man must 
tell half his secret, in order to conceal the rest ; but 
there is seldom one in which a man should tell it 
all. Great skill is necessary to know how far to gQ, 
•and where to stop. 

Ceremony is necessary, as the out-work and de- 
fence of manners. 

A man's own good breeding is his best security 
against other people's ill manners. 

Good breeding carries along with it a dignity that 
is respected by the most petu-lant. Ill breeding in- 
vites and authorizes the familiarity of the most ti- 
mid. No man ever said a pert thing to the Duke of 
^lailbGrough. No man ever said a civil one 



T30 MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 

(though many a flattering one) to Sir Robert Wal- 
pole. 

Knowledge may give weight, but accomplish- 
ments only give lustre ; and many more people see 
than weigh. 

Most arts require long study and application : 
but the most useful art of all, that of pleasing, re- 
quires only the desire. 

It is to be presumed, thatxaman of common sense 
who does not desire to please, desires nothing at 
all ; since he must know that he cannot obtain any 
thing without it. 

A skilful negociator will most carefully distin- 
guish between the little and the great objects of his 
business, and will be as frank and open in the for- 
mer, as he will be secret and pertinacious in the 
latter. — This maxim holds equally true in common 
life. 

The Due de Sully observes very justly, in his Me- 
moirs, that nothing contributed more to his rise, 
than that prudent economy which he had observed 
from his youth ; and by which he had always a sum; 
of money before-hand, in case of emergencies. 

It is very difficult to fix the particular point of 
economy : the best error of the two is on the parsi- 
monious side : tha^ may be corrected, the otheg 
cannot. 

The reputation of generosity is to be purchased 
pretty cheap ; it does not depend so much upon a 
man's general expense, as it does upon his giving 
handsomely where it is proper to give at all. A 
man, for instance, who should give a servant four 
shillings, would pass for covetous, while he who* 
gave him a crown would be reckoned generous ; so= 
that the difference of those two opposite characters 



MISCELLANEOUS OBSERVATIONS. 131 

f urns upon one shilling. A man's character \n that 
particular depends a great deal upon the report of 
his own servants ; a mere trifle above common wa- 
ges makes their report favourable. 

Take care always to form your establishment so 
much within your income, as to leave a sufficient 
fund for unexpected contingencies and a prudent 
liberality. There is hardly a }*ear in any man's 
life in which a small sum of ready money may not 
be employed to great advantage. 



END OF LORD CHESTERFIELD'S ADVICE 
TO HIS SON.' 



CONTAINING 

EXTRACTS FROXtt VARIOUS BOOKS, 

RECOMMENDED BY 

LORD CHESTERFIELD 

TO 

MR. STANHOPE.* 

TO "WHICH ARE ADDED, 

THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER; 



Or, An Essay on tho Art which makes a Man happy in 
himself, and agreeabte to others : 



DR. BLAIR'S ADVICE TO YOUTH , 
DR. FORDYCE ON HONOUR AS A PRINCIPLE ; 

LORD BURGHLEY'S TEN PRECEPTS TO 
HIS SON; 

DR. FRANKLIN'S WAY TO WEALTH; 

AND 

POPE'S UNIVERSAL PRAYER. 

* See Page 118. 



LETTER XJ/VV. 
ADYICE 

OF 

£L MOTHER TO HER SON: 

BY THE 

illARCHIONESS DE LAMBERT. 

A Tract particularly recommended to his Son by 
Lord Chesterfield. 



Whatever care is used in the education of chil- 
dren, it is still too little to answer the end ; to make 
it succeed, there must be excellent governors ; but 
where shall we find them, when princes find it dif- 
ficult to get and keep them for themselves ? Where 
can we meet with men so much superior to others 
as to deserve to be intrusted with their conduct? 
Yet the first years of a man's life are precious, 
since they lay. the foundation of the merit of the 

rest. 

There are but two seasons of life m which truth 
distinguishes itself for our advantage : in youth, 
for our instruction ; and in our advanced years, to 
comfort us. In the age that passions reign, truth 
generally quits us for the time. 

Two celebrated men * out of their friendship to 
me, have had the care of your education; but as 

* P. Boubours and P Cheminaia. 



136 ADVICE OF A MOTHER 

they were obliged to follow the method of studies 
settled in colleges, they applied themselves more in 
your early youth to improve your mind with learn- 
ing, than to make you know the world, or instruct 
you in the decorum of life. 

I am going, my son, to give you some precepts 
for the conduct of ytnirs ; read them without think- 
ing it a trouble. They are not dry lectures, that 
carry the air of a mother's authority : they are ra- 
ther the advice of a friend, and have this merit, 
that they come from my heart. 

At your entering the world, you must certainly 
propose to yourself some end or other : you have 
too much sense to care to live without any design at 
all ; nor can you aspire to any thing more becom- 
ing and worthy of you than glory. It is a noble 
view for you to entertain ; but it is fit for you to 
- know what is meant by the term, and what notion 
you frame of it. 

It is of various kinds, and each profession has a 
glory that is peculiar to it. In yours, my son, it 
means the glory that attends valour. This is the 
glory of heroes ; it makes a brighter figure than any 
other ; it always carries with it the true marks of 
honour and the recompenses it deserves : Fame 
seems to have no tongue but to sound their praise ; 
and when you arrive at a certain degree of reputa- 
tion, every thing you do is considerable. All the 
world has agreed to give the pre-eminence to mili- 
tary virtues; it is no more than their due. They 
cost dear enough ; but there are several ways of 
discharging their obligation. 

Some engage in the profession of arms, merely 
to avoid the shame of degenerating from their an- 
cestors j others follow it not only out of duty, but 



TO HER SON. 141 

his credit but to do good. He could not bear to 
see any body unhappy where he commanded ; all 
his care was to solicit and get pensions for the offi- 
cers, and gratifications for the wounded, and such 
as had distinguished themselves. He made the 
fortune of abundance of persons. 

Self-love got but little by your father's advance- 
ment, which was the good of others. This made 
nim the delight of all that lived under his govern- 
ment ; and when he died, if they could have done 
it, they would have purchased him again with their 
blood. His good qualities struck envy dumb, and 
all the world in their hearts applauded the king's 
disposal of his graces. In an age of general cor- 
ruption, he had the purest morals; he thought in a 
different manner from the generality of mankind. 

What faithfulness to his word ! He always kept 
it, though at his own expense. What disinterest- 
edness in his conduct ! He never minded his ad- 
vantage in the least. What allowance did he make 
for human frailties ! He was always excusing the 
faults of others, and considering them barely as 
their misfortunes ; so that one would be tempted to 
imagine, that he thought himself the only person in 
the world that was obliged to be an honest man. 
His virtues, far from being troublesome to others, 
left every body at their ease. He had all that ami- 
able complaisance and good nature which is so use- 
ful in life, and so necessary for the good correspon- 
dence and harmony of mankind. None of his vir- 
tues were precarious, because they were all natu- 
ral. An acquired merit is often uncertain ; but your 
father, still following reason as his guide, and prac- 
tising virtue without violence to his nature, never 
varied a*, all in his conduct. 



142 ADVICE OF A MOTHER 

See, my son, what we have lost. Such an ex- 
traordinary degree of merit seemed to insure us a 
vast fortune : nothing was more reasonable than 
our hopes in the reign of so just a prince. Your 
father, however, left you nothing but his name and 
example. His name obliges you to bear it with 
dignity, and his virtues challenge your imitation ; 
it is a model by which you may form yourself: I 
do not ask more of you, but I will not excuse you 
for less. 

You have this advantage over your ancestors, 
that they may serve to guide you : I am not asha- 
med to say, that they left you no fortune ; nor would 
they blush to own it, after employing their estates 
tn the service of their prince, and passing through 
life without any injustice to others, or any mean- 
ness in their own conduct. 

Great fortunes are so seldom innocent, that I ea- 
sily forgive your ancestors for not leaving you any. 
I have done all I could to bring our affairs into 
some order; a point in which women can distin- 
guish themselves no way but by economy. I shall 
do my utmost to discharge every duty incumbent 
upon me in my circumstances : I shall leave you as 
much as is fitting for vou, if you are so unhappy as 
to have no merit ; and enough, in all reason, if you 
have the virtues I wish you. 

As I desire nothing upon earth so much as to see 
you a perfectly honest man, let us see what sort of 
conduct is necessary to give one a title to that cha- 
racter, that we may know what we ought to do to 
deserve it. 1 improve myself by these reflections ; 
and may, perhaps, be one day happy enough to 
change my precepts into examples. 

She that exhorts another ought to lead the way 



TO HER SON. 143 

herself. A Persian ambassador asked the wife of 
Leonidas, * Why they paid such honors to the wo- 
men at Lacedaemon?' * It is, 1 replied she, * because 
they have entirely the forming of the men.' A 
Greek lady showed her jewels to Phocion's mother, 
and asked to see hers : the noble Athenian pointed 
to her children, and said to her, * These are my fine- 
ry and jewels. 7 I hope my son, to find in time a 
like subject of glory in you. — But let us return to the 
obligations which men are obliged to discharge. 

There is a certain order in these obligations. A 
man should know how to live with his superiors, his 
equals, and his inferiors, as well as with himself. 
With his superiors, he should know how to please 
without sinking into meanness, should show an es- 
teem and friendship to his equals, should conde- 
scend to his inferiors so as not to let them feel the 
weight of his superiority, and should keep up a 
dignity with himself. 

All these obligations are still inferior to the ven- 
eration you owe to the Supreme Being. Religion 
is a correspondence settled between God and man, 
by the favours of God to men, and the worship that 
men pay to God. Souls of a superior genius have 
noble sentiments for the Deity, and pay him a wor- 
ship peculiar to themselves, very different from that 
of the vulgar ; it all comes from their heart, and 
is directed immediately to God. Moral virtues are 
very precarious, without the Christian to support 
them. I do not recommend to you a piety blend- 
ed with weakness and superstition : I only insist, 
that the love of order should make you submit 
your understanding and sentiments to God, and 
should show itself in every part of your conduct ; it 
will inspire justice into you, and justice is the basis 
of all other virtues. 



144 ADVICE OF A MOTHER 

The generality of young men think to distin- 
guish themselves now-a-days by assuming a liber- 
tine air, which degrades them among men of sense . 
such an air, instead of arguing a superiority of un- 
derstanding, shows only the depravity of the heart. 
People never attack religion, but when they have 
an interest to attack it : nothing makes a man hap- 
pier than to have his understanding convinced, and 
his heart arTected with it : it is of excellent use in 
every season and circumstance of life. Such as are 
not happy enough to believe as they ought, do 
yet find it reasonable to submit to the established 
religion : they know that what is miscalled preju- 
dice has a great vogue in the world, and ought to 
be treated with respect. 

A libertine way of thinking, and licentiousness 
cf manners, ought to be banished under the present 
reign. 

The behaviour of the sovereign is a sort of law 
to regulate that of others ; it enjoins whatever he 
practises, and forbids what he declines doing. 
The failings of princes are multiplied, and their 
virtues are renewed, by imitation. Though cour- 
tiers should be debauched in their sentiments, there 
is still a politeness reigning at cdtirt, which serves 
to throw a veil over vice. We have the good for- 
tune to be born in an age when purity of morals 
and a respect for religion are necessary to please 
the prince. 

I might, my son, in the order of your duties, insist 
on what you owe to me ; but I would derive it en- 
tirely from your heart. Consider the condition in 
which your father left me : I had sacrificed all 
that belonged to me to raise his fortune, and I lost 
my all at his death. I saw myself left alone, des- 



TO HER SON. 145 

? <tute of any support. I had no friends but his.; 
and I found by experience, that few persons are ca- 
pable of being friends to the dead. I met with ene- 
mies in my own family : I had a law-suit upon my 
hands against potent adversaries, and my whole 
fortune depended on the event. I gained it at 
>iast without any power of my own, and without 
any cringing to others. In a word, I made the 
foest I couJd of my ill circumstances ; and as soon 
as ever my own fortune was mended, I set myself 
to make yours. Give me the same share ia your 
friendship that I shall give jou in my little for- 
tune. 

1 will have no affected respect : 1 would have all 
your regards to me come not from constraint, but 
purely from your heart. Let them proceed entirely 
from your inclinations, without being influenced by 
any motive of interest. In short, take care of your 
own glory, and I will take care of every thing else. 

You know how to conduct yourself with your 
superiors: but there are still some instructions to 
foe given with regard to the duty you owe your 
prince. You are of a family -that has sacrificed 
their all for him. As for the persons on whom you 
depend — the first merit is to please. 

Tn subaltern employments you have noway to 
support yourself but by being agreeable : masters 
are just like mistresses ; whatever service you have 
done them, they cease to love you as soon as you 
cease to please them. 

There are various sorts of dignity, and they re- 
quire as various kinds of respect. 

There are real and personal dignities, and there 
are dignities of institution : there is always a respect 
due to persons in elevated stations, but it is merely 



m ADYICE OF A MOTHER 

an outward respect . our real respect and esteems 
are due only to merit. When fortune and virtue 
have concurred to raise a man to a high post, there*' 
is a double empire in the case, which commands a* 
double submission : but let not the glittering o£ 
grandeur dazzle and impose upon you. 

There are some mean souls that are always 
erouehing and grovelling before grandeur. One? 
ought to separate the man from the dignity, and see 
what he is when he is stripped of it. There is 
another greatness very different from that which 
power and authority give. It is neither birth nor 
riches that distinguishes men: the only real and 
true superiority among them is merit. 

The character of an honest man is a nobler titles 
than any that fortune can bestow. In subalterns 
posts one is necessarily depentlant : one must make 
one's court to the ministers ; but it must be made 
with dignity. I shall never give you any cringing 
lectures : it is your services that should speak fos 
you, and not any unbecoming submissions. 

Men of merit, when they make their court to mi- 
iristers r do them an honour, but scoundrels disgrace 
them. Nothing is more agreeable than to be a 
friend of persons of dignity ; but what lays the 
foundation of this friendship is a desire to please 
them. 

Let your acquaintance be with persons that are 
above you : you will by that means get a habit of 
respect and politeness. People are too csreless 
when they converse with their equals : they grow 
dull, for want of exerting their parts. 

I do not know whether onr may hope to find; 
friends at court. As for persons of eminent dignity^ 
their post exempts them from great many duties^ 



TO HER SOR 147 

and covers abundance of their failings. It is good 
to examine into men to know them thoroughly, and 
see them with their every day's merit about them. 
The favourites of fortune impose upon you, when 
you look upon them at a distance: the distance 
puts them in a point of view that is favourable to 
them ; Fame always enhances their merit, and 
Flattery defies them. Examine them near, and 
you will find them to be but men. What a number 
of ordinary creatures do we find at court ! to rec- 
tify one's notions of greatness, one must view it 
near ; you will cease immediately either to desire 
or fear it. 

Let not the failings of great men corrupt you, 
but rather teach you to correct your own. Let the 
ill use which they make of their estates teach you 
to despise riches, and keep yourself within bounds. 
Virtue seldom has the direction of their expenses. 
Among the infinite number of tastes invented by 
luxury and sensuality, why has there not been one 
formed for relieving the miserable ? Does not hu- 
manity itself make you feel the necessity of assist- 
ing your fellow-creatures ? Good-natured and ge- 
nerous tempers are more sensible of the obligation 
that lies upon them to do good, than they are of 
all the other necessities of life. Marcus Aurelius 
thanked the gods for his having always done good 
to his friends, without making them wait for it. It 
is the great felicity of grandeur, when others find 
their fortune in ours. * I cannot,' said that prince, 
* have any relish of a happiness that nobody shares 
in but myself.' 

The most exquisite pleasure in nature is to make 
the pleasure of others : but for this end one must 
not be too fond of the goods of fortune. Riches 
G2 



148 ADVICE OF A MOTHER 

never were the parent of virtue, but virtue has of- 
ten been the cause of riches. What use, too, d 
the generality of great men make of the glory of 
their station ? They put it all in exterior marks, 
and in an air of pride : their dignity sits heavy on 
them, and depresses others ; whereas true greatness 
is humane ; it is always easy of access, and con- 
descends even to stoop to you ; such as really en- 
joy it are at their ease, and make others so too as 
well as themselves. Their advancement does not 
cost them any virtue, and the nobleness of their sen- 
timents had formed, and in a manner habituated 
them to it before-hand. Their elevated station 
seems natural to them, and nobody is a sufferer 
by it. 

Titles and dignities are not the bonds that unite 
us to men, or gain them to us : without merii and 
beneficence to recommend our grandeur to them, we 
have but a precarious tenure of their friendship ? 
and they will only seek to indemnify themselves at 
our expense for the homage which they have been 
forced to pay to the post, rather than to the man 
that enjoys it, whom they will not fail to arraign 
freely, and condemn in his absence. If envy be 
the motive that makes ui love to lessen the good 
qualities of men, in great posts, it is a passion we 
ought to oppose, and render them the justice that 
they deserve. We fancy frequently ttyat we have 
no grudge but against the men, when indeed our 
malignity is owing to their places : persons in great 
posts never yet enjoyed them with the good liking 
of the world, which only begins to do them justice 
when they are out of place. Envy, in spite of it- 
self, pays a homage to greatness at the same time 
shat it seems to despise it ; for to envy places is to 



TO HER SON. 149 

honour them. Let us not out of discontent con- 
demn agreeable stations, which have no fault but 
that we are not in them ourselves. — It is time now 
to pass to the duties of society. 

Men have found it necessary as well as agree- 
able to unite for the common good : they have made 
laws to restrain the wicked ; they have agreed 
amongst themselves as to the duties of society, and 
have annexed an honourable character to the prac- 
tice of those duties. He is the honest man that ob- 
serves them with the most exactness, and the in- 
stances of them multiply in proportion to the de- 
gree and nicety of a persons honour. 

Virtues are linked together, and have a sort of al- 
liance with one another : what constitutes a hero is 
the union of all the virtues. After prescribing the 
duties necessary for their common security, men 
set themselves to make their conversation agreea- 
ble, and settle certain rules of politeness and living 
to be observed by persons of birth and quality. 

There are some failings against which no pre- 
cepts are to be given : there are certain vices that 
are unknown to. men of honour. Probity, fidelity 
in keeping one's word, and a love of truth, are sub- 
jects that I think I need not insist on and recom- 
mend to you : you know that a man of honour 
knows not what it is to tell a lie. What eulogiums 
does not the v -orld give, and give deservedly, to lo- 
vers of truth. The man, say they, that does good 
and speaks the truth, resembles the Deity, whose 
essential properties are goodness and truth. We 
arc not indeed obliged always to speak what 
we think, but we roust always think what we 
speak. The true use of speech is to promote truth. 
When a man has acquired a reputation for veraci- 



150 ADVICE OF A MOTHER 

ty, his word is taken implicitly : it has all the au- 
thority of an oath, and the world receives what he 
says with a sort of religious respect 

Falsehood in actions is full as inconsistent with 
a love of truth as falsehood in words. Men of ho- 
nour are never false ; what, indeed, have they to 
disguise ? Nor are they fond of showing them- 
selves; because, sooner or later, true merit will 
make its way. 

Remember that the world will sooner pardon you 
your failings, than the affectation of pretending to 
virtues which you have not in reality. Falsehood 
affects to put on the air of truth, but a false man's 
professions go no farther than his looks and dis- 
courses ; whereas a man's of veracity are made 
good by his actions. It has been said a long time 
ago, that hypocrisy is a homage which vice pays to 
virtue : but the principal virtues are not of 
themselves sufficient to qualify a man to please : 
he must have, likewise, agreeable and engaging 
qualities. 

When one aims at gaining a great reputation, 
one is always in a state of dependence on the opi- 
nion of others. It is very difficult for a man to rise 
to honours by his services, unless he has friends to 
set them forth, and a manner of behaviour proper 
to recommend them. 

I have told you already, that in subaltern posts a 
man cannot support himself but by a knack of 
pleasing; as soon as ever he is neglected, he be- 
comes from that moment inconsiderable. There is 
nothing so disagreeable as to show a too great 
fondness for one's self, and expose one's vanity, so 
as to make people see that we like ourselves above 
all the world, and that every thing centres in us. 



TO HER SON. 151 

A man with a great deal of wit may make him- 
self very agreeable, when he only employs it to find 
out the failings of others, and expose them public- 
ly As for this sort of men, who only show their 
wit at other people's expense, they ought to consid- 
er that nobody's life is so perfectly without a blem- 
ish, as to give him a right to censure another 
man's. 

Raillery makes a part of the amusements of con- 
versation, but is a very nice matter to manage. 
Persons that want to traduce, and love to rally, 
have a secret malignity in their heart. The most 
agreeable raillery in nature gives offence, if it ad- 
vances a step too far; so easy is the transition from 
the one to the other. A false friend often abuses 
the liberty of banter, and reflects upon you. In 
all cases of this nature, the person that you attack 
has the sole right of judging whether you are in jest 
or not ; the moment he takes offence, it ceases to 
be raillery ; it is a downright affront. 

Raillery should never be used but with regard to 
failings of so little consequence, that the person 
concerned may be merry on the subject himself. 
Nice raillery is a decent mixture of praise and re- 
proach ; it touches slightly upon little failings, on 
ly to dwell the more upon great qualities. Mon- 
sier de la Rochefoucault says, that * the man who 
dishonours another, does less mischief than he that 
ridicules him.' I should be of his opinio*) for this 
reason, that it is not in any body's power to dishon- 
our another: it is not the discourse or reflection or 
others, it is only our own conduct that can dishon- 
our us. The causes of dishonour are known and 
certain, but ridicule is entirely arbitrary ; it depends 
hi the manner how objects appear to us, and on 



152 ADVICE OF A MOTHER 

our manner of thinking and taking them. There 
are some people that may be said to wear always 
spectacles of ridicule, and see every thing through 
them. It is not so much the fault of objects, as the 
fault of persons that view them in such a light : 
this is so true, that such persons as appear ridicu- 
lous, in certain companies, would be admired in 
others where there are men of sense and merit. 

A man's humour, too, contributes much to the 
making him agreeable or otherwise : dark and sour 
humours, that have a spice of malevolence in them, 
are vastly disagreeable. 

Humour is the disposition with which the soul re- 
ceives the impression of objects : good-natured tem- 
pers take nothing ill ; their indulgence is of benefit 
to others, and supplies them with what they want in 
themselves. 

The generality of mankind imagine that it is to 
no purpose to attempt to correct their humour ; they 
say, * I was born so f and fancy this is excuse 
enough to justify their not taking any pains abou. 
it. Such tempers must infallibly displease : mer 
owe you nothing, any farther than you are agree- 
able to them. The way to be so is to forget one'u 
self; to put others upon subjects that they like ; to 
make them pleased with themselves ; to se*: them 
out with advantage, and allow them the good qua- 
lities which others dispute their having. They be- 
lieve you give them what the world does not allow 
them ; their merit seems, in some sort, to be of your 
creation, whilst you exalt them in the opinion of 
others : but this is never to be pushed so far as to 
commence flattery. 

Nothing pleases so much as sensible and tender 
persons trying to make a friendship with others. 



TO HER SON. 153 

Take care to carry yourself in such a manner, 
that your behaviour may at once make a tender of 
your own friendship, and invite the friendship of 
others: You can never be an amiable man with- 
out knowing how to be a friend, without a taste and 
knowledge of friendship. It is this corrects the vi- 
ces of society ; it softens the roughness of people's 
natures ; it brings down their vanity, and makes 
Jiem know themselves. All the obligations of hon- 
our are included in the obligations of perfect friend- 
ship. 

In the hurry and bustle of the world, take care, 
my son, to have a sure friend to whisper truth to 
your soul : be always ready to hear the advice of 
your friends. The owning of faults is no hard 
matter for persons that find a fund within them- 
selves tG mend them : think that you have never 
done enough, when you find that ycu can still do 
better. Nobody takes a reproof so kindly as be 
that deserves most to be commended. If you are 
happy enough to find a true friend, you have found 
a treasure : his reputation will secure your own ; he 
will answer for you to yourself; he will alleviate all 
your troubles, and multiply all your pleasures. But 
if you would deserve a friend, you must know how 
to be one. 

AH the world is complaining of the want of 
friends, and yet scarcely any body gives himself the 
trouble of bringing the necessary dispositions to 
gain and preserve them. Young men have their 
companions, but they very rarely have any friends : 
pleasures are what unite them, but pleasures are 
not ties worthy of friendship. 1 do not pretend to 
make a dissertation on this subject ; I only touch 
slightly on some duties of civil life ; I refer you to 



1 
154 ADVICE OF A MOTHER 

your own heart, which will put you upon desiring 
a friend, and make you feel the necessity of having 
one. I depend upon the niceness of your senti- 
ments to instruct you in the duties of friendship. 

If you would be perfectly an honest man, you 
must think of keeping your self-love within bounds, 
and placing it on a good object. Honesty consists 
in waving one's own rights, and paying a regard to 
those of others. If you set up to be happy alone, 
you will never be so ; all the world will dispute 
your happiness with you : but if you are for mak- 
ing the world happy as well as yourself, every bo- 
dy will assist you. All vices whatever flatter self- 
love, and all the virtues agree to attack it ; valour 
exposes it ; modesty lowers it ; generosity throws 
it away ; moderation mortifies it ; and zeal for the 
public sacrifices it to the good of society. 

Self-love is a preferring of one's self to others, as 
honesty is the preferring of others to one's self. 
There are two kinds of self-love ; the one natural, 
lawful, and regulated by justice and reason ; the 
other vicious and corrupt. Our first object is cer- 
tainly ourselves ; it is only reflection that calls us 
back to justice. We do not know how to love our- 
selves ; we either carry our self-love too high, or 
exercise it improperly. To love one's self as one 
ought, is to love virtue ; to love vice is to strike in 
with a blind and mistaken love. 

We have sometimes seen persons advance them- 
selves by ill ways; but if vice is preferred, it is not 
for any length of time ; corrupt persons ruin them- 
selves by the very means, and with the same prin- 
ciples, that raised them. If you would be happy 
with security, you must be so with innocence. 
There is no power sure and lasting, but that of 
virtue. 



TO HER SON. 137 

inclination. The first scarce ever raise themselves 
above their rank in the world ; it is a debt they pay, 
and they go no farther. The others, flushed with 
hopes, and carried on by ambition, march a giant's 
pace in the road of glory. Some purpose only to 
make their fortune ; others have their advancement 
and immortality itself in view. Such as stint them- 
selves to the making a fortune, never have a very 
extensive merit. A man that does not aim at rais- 
ing to himself a great name, will never perform any 
great actions. And such as go carelessly on in the 
road of their piofessions suffer all the fatigues, with- 
out acqujring either the honour or recompense that 
naturally attend it. 

If people understood their own interest rightly, 
they would not lay a stress upon raising a fortune, 
but would, in all professions, have their glory and 
reputation in view. When you attain to a certain 
degree of merit, (and it is generally known,) the 
great glory and reputation you have acquired never 
fail to make your fortune. A man cannot have too 
much ardour to distinguish himself, nor can his de- 
sires of advancement be encouraged by hopes that 
are too flattering. 

There must be great views to give a great vigour 
to the soul ; it is not easy otherwise to make it exert 
itself. Let your love of glory be ever so eager and 
active, you may still fall short of your aim ; yet, 
though you should advanoe but halfway, it is al- 
ways glorious to have dared. 

There is nothing so improper for a young man, as 
that modesty which makes him fancy he is not ca- 
pable of great things. This modesty is a faintness 
of soul, which hinders it from exerting itself, and 
running with a swift career towards glory. Agesi- 



138 ADVICE OF A MOTHER 

laus was told that the king of Persia was the great- 
est king. » Why should he be greater than I,' re- 
plied he, * so long as I have a sword by my side ?* 
There is a superior genius and merit in some 
persons, that tells them nothing is impossible for 
them. 

Fortune, my son, did not level your way to glory: 
to make it easier for you, I gave you a regiment be- 
times ; being persuaded that there is no entering 
too soon into a profession where experience is so 
necessary, and that the first years of a man's life 
lay the foundation of his character, and enable the 
world to judge of his future conduct in the residue 
of it. You made the campaign of Barcelona, the 
most successful to the king's troops, and yet the 
least celebrated of aray. You return into Italy, 
where every thing is against us ; where we are to 
fight not only with the enemy, but the climate, the 
situation and prejudices of the country. Campaigns 
that are unhappy for the king, prove so likewise for 
private men ; the corpses of the dead, and the 
faults of trie living, are buried in one common 
grave : Fame is hushed, and has nothing to say of 
the service of such as are left : but you may stilt 
depend upon it, that true valour is never unknown. 
There ace so many eyes observing your behaviour, 
that you can never want as many witnesses of 
your worth : besides, you learn more in such cam- 
paigns ; you try your own abilities ; you know your- 
self well enough to judge what you can do upon oc- 
casion ; others know it too ; and if you do not raise 
yourself a reputation in a moment, you are sure to 
gain one in the end. 

Great names are not formed in a day ; nor is it 
valour alone that makes extraordinary men : she 



TO HER SON, 13$ 

feegrns, mdeed, to form them, but other virtues must 
■concur to finish them. 

The notion of a hero is inconsistent wifti tlie 
character of a man without justice, probity, and 
magnanimity. It is not enough to have a name for 
your valour ; you must have a. name likewise for 
your probity. Ail the virtues must unite together 
lo form a hero. Valour, my son, is not to be in- 
spired by advice ; it is a gift of nature : but such a 
•one that a person may possess it in the highest de- 
gree, and yet deserve very little esteem in other re- 
spects. 

The generality of young men fancy they are obli- 
ged to nothing else, when once they have acquired 
the military virtues ; and that they are allowed to 
l>e unjust, rude and unmannerly. Do not earry the 
prerogative of the sword too far ; it gives you no 
exemption from other obligations. 

Take care, my son, to be m reality what others 
promise or pretend to be : you have patterns set 
you in your own family ; patterns that represent to 
you human virtues in an eminent degree. You have 
them all before you in your father. I sliaTl say no- 
thing of his talents for war ; it does not become me 
to speak of them ; but the use the king made of 
them, and the various posts of trust that he gave 
him, are sufficient proofs that fee deserved his con- 
fidence. 

The king often said that he was one of his test 
officers, on whom he depended most. This was 
but part of his merit, for he had all the social vir- 
tues : he knew how to reconcile ambition with mo- 
deration ; he aspired to true $ory, without troub- 
ling himself about making his fortune ; he was neg- 
lected for a considerable time, and met with a sort 
10 G 



140 ADVICE OF A MOTHER 

of injustice. In that unlucky season, when yott* 
father was under the frowns of fortune, (a juncture 
when any body but he would have been tired out,) 
with what courage did he bear his ill treatment ? 
He resolved, by failing in no part of his duty, to> 
bring fortune over to his side, or leave her inexcu- 
sable : his notion was, that true ambition consisted 
rather in making ones-self superior in merit than in 
dignity. 

There are some virtues that are not to be- acquir- 
ed but in disgrace : we know not what we are till 
we have been tried. The virtues of prosperity are 
pleasant and easy ; those of adversity are harsh 
and difficult, and require all the powers of a mart 
to enable him to practise them. He knew how to- 
suffer without desponding, for he had an infinite 
number of resources in himself ; he thought he was- 
obliged in duty to continue in his profession, being, 
convinced, that the slowness of recompenses never 
authorizes us to quit the service. His misfortunes 
never shook his courage in the least ; he knew how 
to bear them with patience and dignity, and how to* 
enjoy prosperity without haughtiness and pride. — 
The change of fortune made none at all in his mind r 
and did not cost him a single virtue. 

When he was made governor of Luxemburg, all 
the province was in dread of the French dominion : 
he cured the people entirely of their fears ; so that 
they were scarcely sensible they had changed mas- 
ters. He had a. light hand, and governed only by 
love, and never by authority ; he made nobody feel 
the distance between him and others. His good- 
ness cut short the way that divided him from his. 
inferiors ; he either raised them up to himself, or 
else stooped down to them. He never employed 



TO HER SON. 155 

There are some amiable tempers that have a fine 
and natural congruity with virtue: those to whom 
nature has not been so bountiful, must be watchful 
over their conduct, and know their true interest, to 
be able to correct an evil disposition. Thus the 
understanding rectifies the heart. 

The love of esteem is the life and soul of society, 
it unites us to one another : I want your approba- 
tion, you stand in need of mine. By forsaking the 
converse of men, we forsake the virtues necessary 
for society ; for when one is alone, one is apt to 
grow negligent ; the world farces you to have a 
guard over yourself. 

Politeness is the most necessary quality for con- 
versation ; it is the art of employing the exterior 
marks of breeding, which, after all, gives us no as- 
surance of a man's inward qualities. Politeness is 
an imitation of honesty, and shows a man in his 
outside, such as he ought to be within ; it discovers 
itself in every thing, in his air, in his discourse, and 
in his actions. 

There is a politeness of understanding, and a 
politeness of manners: that of the understanding 
consists in saying curious and ingenious things- 
that of manners, in saying things of a flattering 
nature and an agreeable turn. 

I do not confine politeness to that intercourse of 
civilities and compliments, which is settled by com- 
mon use ; they are made without meaning, and re- 
ceived without any sense of obligation ; people are 
apt to over-do the matter in this sort of intercourse, 
and abate of it upon experience 

Politeness is a desire to please the persons with 
whom we are obliged to live, and to behave our- 
selves m such a manner, that all the world may be 
11 



tt& ADVICE OF A MOTU£K 

satisfied with us l our superiors with our respect ; 
our equals with our esteem ; and our inferiors witfe 
©ur kindness and condescension. In a word, it 
consists in a care to please, asd say what is proper 
to every body. Jt sets out their good qualities ; it 
makes them sensible that you acknowledge their 
superiority . when you know how to exalt them, 
they will set you out in their turn ; they will give 
you the same preference to others, which you are 
pleased to give them to yourself: their sell- love obli- 
ges them to do so. 

The way to please is not to display your superi- 
ority ; it is to conceal it from being perceived. 
There is a great deal of judgment in being polite - r 
but the world will excuse you at an easier rate. 

The generality of people require only certain 
manners that please : if you have them not, you- 
must make up the defect with the number of you? 
good qualities. There must be a great deal of 
merit to get over a clownish awkward behaviour. 
Never let the world see that you are fond of your 
own person : a polite man never finds time to talk 
of himself. 

You know what sort of politeness is necessary to 
be observed to the women. At present it looks as 
if the young men had made a vow not to practise 
it ; it is a sign of a careless education. 

Nothing is more shameful than a voluntary rude- 
ness ; but, let them do their worst, they can never 
rob the women of the glory of having formed the 
finest gentlemen of the last age. It is to them that 
they owed all the complaisance of behaviour, the 
delicacy of inclinations, and the fine gallantry of 
wit and manners which were then remarkable 

At present, indeed, exterior gallantry seems to 



TO HER SON. 157 

be banished ; the manners of the world are differ- 
ent, and every body has lost something by the 
change ; the women the desire of pleasing, which 
was the source of their charms ; and the men the 
complaisance and fine politeness, which is only to 
be acquired in their conversation. The generality 
of men fancy that they owe them neither probity 
nor fidelity : it looks as if they had a license to be- 
tray them, without affecting their honour. Who 
ever would think fit to examine into the motives of 
such a conduct, would find them very scandalous. 
They are faithful to one another, because they are 
afraid, and know they shall be called to an ac- 
count ; but they are false to the women without 
fear of suffering and without remorse. This shews 
their probity to be only forced, to be rather the ef- 
fect of fear than the love of justice ; and, accord- 
ingly, if we examine close into such as make a 
trade of gallantry, we shall find them frequently to 
be men of no honour ; they contract ill-habits ; their 
manners are corrupted ; they grow indifferent to 
truth, and indulge themselves in their habitual neg- 
lect of their word and oaths. What a trade is 
this ! where the least ill thing that you do is to se- 
duce the women from their duty, to dishonour 
some, to make others desperate, where a sure cala- 
mity is oftentimes all the recompense of a sincere 
and constant affection. 

The men have no reason to find so much fault 
with the women ; for it is by them that they lose 
their innocence. If we except some women, that 
seem destined to vice from their cradle, the rest 
would live in a regular practice of their duty, if the 
men did not take pains to turn them from it : but, 
in short, it is their business to be on their guard 



158 ADVICE OF A MOTHER 

against them. You know that it is never allow 
able to dishonour them : if they have had ih< 
weakness to trust you with their honour, it is a 
confidence that you ought not to abuse. You owe 
it to them, if you have reason to be satisfied with 
them ; you owe it to yourself, if you have reasor 
to complain of them. You know, too, that by the 
laws of honour you must fight with equal weap- 
ons ; you ought not therefore to expose a woman 
to dishonour for her amour, since she can never 
expose you for yours. 

I must, however, caution you against incurring 
their hatred ; it is violent and implacable : there 
are some offences which they never pardon, and 
people run a greater risk than they imagine in 
wounding theii honour; the less their resentment 
breaks out, the more terrible is it ; by being held 
in, it grows the fiercer. Have no quarrel with a 
sex that knows so well how to resent and revenge 
themselves; and the rather, because the women 
make the reputation of the men, as the men make 
that of the women. 

It is a happy talent, but very rarely to be met 
with, to know how to manage the point of praise, 
to give it agreeably and with justice. The morose 
man does not know how to praise ; his judgment is 
spoiled by his temper. The flatterer, by praising 
too much, ruins his own credit, and does honour to 
nobody. The vain man deals out his praises only 
to receive others in return ; he shows too plainly 
that he praises merely out of affectation. Shallow 
understandings esteem every thing, because they 
know not the value of things: they cannot make 
eitner their esteem or contempt pass in the world. 
The envious wretch praises nobody, for fear of put- 



TO HEK SON. 159 

ting others on a level with himself. An honest man 
praises in the right place ; he feels more pleasure 
in doing justice than in raising his own reputation 
by lessening (hat of others. Persons that reflect, 
and are nice upon this article, are very sensible of 
all these differences. If you would have your prai- 
ses of any body be of service to you, always praise 
out of regard you have for others, and not out of 
any regard to yourself. 

One should know how to live with one's compe- 
titors : there is nothing more common than to wish 
to raise one's self above them, or try to ruin them : 
but there is a much nobler conduct; it is never to 
attack them, and always strive to exceed them in 
merit ; it is a handsome action to yield them the 
place which you think is due to them. 

An honest man chooses rather to neglect his own 
fortune, than to fail in a point of justice. Dispute 
about glory with yourself, and strive to acquire new 
virtues, and to improve the merit of those which 
you have already. 

One must be very cautious in the article of re- 
venge ; it is often of use to make one's self feared; 
but it is almost always dangerous to revenge one's 
self. There is not a greater weakness than to do 
all the mischief that we can. The best manner of 
revenging an injury, is not to imitate the person tnat 
did it. It is a fight worthy of honest men, to op- 
pose patience to passion, and moderation to in- 
justice. An extravagant hatred puts you beneath 
the persons that you hate. Do not justify your ene- 
mies ; do nothing that can excuse them : they do 
us less mischief than our own faults. Little souls 
are cruel, but clemency is the virtue of great men. 
Caesar said, that * the most agreeable fruit of his 



160 ADVICE OF A MOTHER 

victories, was the having it in his power to give 
people their lives who attempted his own.' There 
is nothing more glorious and exquisite than this 
kind of revenge ; it is the only one that men of 
honour allow themselves to take. As soon as your 
enemy repents and makes his submission, you lose 
all manner of right to revenge. 

The generality of mankind bring nothing into the 
intercourse of life but their weakness, which serves 
for society. Honest men form an intimacy by their 
virtues, the ordinary sort of men by their pleasures, 
and villains by their crimes. 

Good-fellowship and gaming have their excess 
and their dangers : love has others peculiar to itself: 
there is no playing always with beauty ; it some- 
times commands imperiously. There is nothing 
more shameful in a man than excessive drinking, 
and drowning his reason, which ought to be the 
guide of his life. To give one's self to voluptuous- 
ness is to degrade one's nature. The surest way to 
avoid it, is not to grow familiar with it : one would 
think the voluptuous man's soul was a charge to him. 
As for gaming, it is the destruction of all deco- 
rum. The prince forgets his dignity at it, and the 
woman her modesty. Deep play carries with it 
all the social vices. They rendezvous at certain 
hours to hate and ruin one another : it is a great 
trial of probity ; and few people have preserved 
theirs unspotted in a course of gaming. 

The most necessary disposition to relish pleasures 
is to know how to be without them. Sensual plea- 
sure is out of the way of reasonable persons. Let 
your pleasures be ever so great, remember still to 
expect some melancholy affair to disturb them, or 
some vexatious one to end them. 



TO HER SON. 161 

*V*sdom makes use of the love of glory to guard 
against the meanness into which sensuality hurries 
a man. But one must set to work betimes to keep 
one's self free from passions ; they may in the be- 
ginning be under command, but they .domineer at 
last : they are more easy to he overcome than satis- 
fied. 

Keep yourself from envy ; k is the lowest and 
most shameful passion in the world; it is always 
disowned. Envy is the shadow of glory, as glory 
is the shadow of virtue. The greatest sign that a 
/man is born with great qualities is to say, that ,he 
ihas4io envy in his nature. 

A man of quality can never be amiable without 
liberality. The covetous man cannot fail of being 
.disagreeable. He has within him an obstacle to all 
virtues: he has neither justice nor humanity. 
When once a man gives up himself to avarice, he 
.renounces glory : it is said, there have been illus- 
trious villains, but that there never avereiany illus- 
trious misers. 

Though liberality as a gift of nature, yet, if we 
&ad a disposition to the contrary vice, we might by 
goad sense and reflection correct it. 

The eovetous man enjoys nothing. Money has 
in en said to be a good servant, though an ill mas- 
ter s but it is good on account .of the use we ca» 
-.make of it. 

The covetous wretch is maw tormented than the 
f oor maiL The love of riches is the root of all 
wises, as disinterestedness is the first principle of 
all victims. 

Riches must be immense in order to be entitled 
tlo the first place among the goods of life : they are 
gudeeiUhe. first object of the desires of the greatest 



162 ADVICE OF A MOTHER 

part of mankind ; yet virtue, glory, and a great re- 
putation, are vastly preferable to all the gifts of 
fortune. 

The most sensible pleasure of honest men is to- 
do good and relieve the miserable. What a wide 
difference is there between having a little more 
money or losingit for one's diversion, and the parting 
with it in exchange for the reputation of goodness 
and generosity ! It is a sacrifice that you make tt> 
your glory. Deny yourself something, to lay up a 
fund for your liberality; it is an excellent point oi 
economy, which naturally tends to advance you 
and gain you a good character. 

A great reputation is a good treasure. We must 
not imagine that a great fortune is necessary to en* 
able one to do good ; all the world can do it in* 
their several.stations, with a little attention to them- 
selves and others : fix this inclination in youu 
heart, and you will find wherewith to gratify it - 
occasions enough offer themselves before you, and 
there are but too many unhappy persons that soli- 
cit; yoik 

Liberality distinguishes itself in the manner ol 
giving. The liberal- man doubles the merit of a 
present by the good will with which he makes it : 
the covetous wretch spoils it by his regret at part- 
mg with it. Liberality never ruined any body. 
Families are not raised by avarice, but they are- 
supported by justice* moderation, and integrity. 
Liberality is one of the duties of a noble birth. 
When you do good, you only pay a debt ; but $til£ 
prudence is to govern you in such cases: the prin- 
ciples of profuseness are not shameful, but the con- 
sequences of it are dangerous. 

These are few men know how. to live with tbeis 



TO HER SON. T* 

inferiors. The great opinion that we entertain of 
ourselves makes us look upon all below us as a dis- 
tinct species; but how contrary are such senti- 
ments to humanity I If you would raise yourself a 
great name, you must be affable and ea*y of ac- 
cess : your military profession gives you no dispen- 
sation in this point. Germanicus was adored by 
his soldiers. To learn what they thought of him, 
he walked one evening through Ins camp, and over* 
heard what they said at their little meals, where 
they take upon them to pass their judgment on their 
general : ' He went,' says Tacitus, * to enjoy his 
reputation and glory.' 

You must command by example, rather than au- 
thority. Admiration forces men to imitation much 
sooner than command. To live at your ease, and 
treat your soldiers harshly, is to be their tyrant, and 
not their general. 

Consider with what view authority was first in- 
stituted, and in what manner it should be exerci- 
sed : it is virtue, and the natural re&pect which 
the world pays to it, that made men consent to obe- 
dience. You are an usurper of authority, if you do 
not possess it upon that footing. In an empire 
where reason shall govern, all the world should be 
on a level, and no distinction be paid but to virtue. 

Humanity itself suffers by the vast difference that 
fortune has put between one man and another. It 
is not any dignity or haughtiness, but your merit, 
that should distinguish you from the vulge.r. Con- 
sider the advantages of a noble birth and high sta- 
tion only as goods which fortune lends you, and 
not as distinctions annexed to your person, and that 
make a part of yourself. If your quality raises you 
ahov© the ordinary world, think fanw much yem 
H 



164 ADVICE OF A MOTHER 

have in common with other men by your weak- 
nesses, which confound you with them : let justice, 
then, stop the motions of your pride, which would 
distinguish you from them. 

Know, that the first laws which you ought to 
obey, are those of humanity : remember that you 
are a man, and that you command over men. 
When the son of Marcus Aurelius lost his precept- 
or, the courtiers found fault with him for weeping 
on that occasion. Marcus Aurelius said to them, 
1 Allow my son to be a man before he comes to be 
an emperor.' 

Forget always what you are, when humanity re- 
quires it of you ; but never forget it when true glo- 
ry calls upon you to remember it. In line, if you 
iiave any authority, use it only for the happiness of 
others. Admit them near you, if you are great 
yourself, instead of keeping them at a distance: 
never make them feel their inferiority ; and live 
with them as you would have your superiors live 
with you. 

The greatest part of mankind do not know how 
to live with themselves : all their care is rather how 
to get rid of themselves, and they spend their time 
in seeking for happiness in exterior objects. You 
should, if it be possible, fix your felicity within your- 
self, and find in your own breast an equivalent fo? 
the advantages which fortune denies you : you will 
he more* easy as to them ; but it mv.st be a prindi 
pie of reason that brings you thus to yourself, and 
not an aversion for mankind. 

You love solitude ; they reproach you with being 
too private ; I do not find fault with yonr taste, but 
you must not let the social virtues suffer from it, 
Re&w iiita joarm&f stays Marcus ^.urdius; pra*~» 



to hek soa. m 

tisc often this retreat of the soul, you will improve 
yourself by it. Have some maxim to call up your 
reason, and fortify your principles upon occasion. 
Your retirement makes you acquainted with good 
authors; judicious men do not crowd their mindi 
indifferently with all sorts of learning, but choose 
their subject. 

Take care that your studies inSuence your man- 
ners, and that all the profit of your reading be turn- 
ed to virtue. Try to find out the first principles of 
things, and do not subject yourself servilely to the 
opinions of the vulgar. 

Your ordinary reading should be history, but al- 
ways use reflection with it. If you only think of 
filling your memory with faJts, and polishing your 
mind with the thoughts and opinions of the ancients, 
you will only lay up a magazine of other people's 
notions; one quarter of an hour's reflection improves 
and forms the mind more than a great deal of read- 
ing. A want of learning is not so much to be 
dreaded, as error and false judgments. 

Reflection is the guide that leads to truth : consid- 
er facts only as authorities to support reason, or as 
subjects to exercise it. 

History will instruct you in your business; but af- 
ter you have drawn from it all the advantage proper 
for your profession, there is a moral use to be made 
of it, which is of much greater consequence to you. 
The first science of man is human nature. 
Leave politics to ministers, and what belongs to 
grandeur to princes ; but do you find out the man 
in the prince ; observe him in the course of com- 
mon life : see how low he sinks, when he gives 
himself up to his passions. An irregular conduct 
is always followed with dismal consequences. 



lbb ADVICE OF A MOTHER 

To study history, is to study the passions and 
opinions of men ; it is to examine them thoroughly ; 
it is to pull the mask off their actions, which ap- 
peared great whilst they were veiled, and conse- 
crated by success, but often become contemptible 
when the motive of them is known. There is no- 
thing more ambiguous than the actions of men. We 
must trace them up to their principles, if we would 
know them rightly. It is necessary to be sure of 
the spirit of our actions, before we glory in them. 

We do little good, and a great deal of ill ; and 
have the knack, too, of spoiling and depraving the 
little good that we do. 

See princes in history, and elsewhere, as so ma- 
ny actors on the stage ; they no way concern you, 
but by the qualities which we have in common 
with them. This is so true, that such historians as 
have set themselves to describe them rather as men 
than kings, and show them to us in their private 
life, give us the most pleasure ; we find ourselves 
out in them ; we love to see our own weaknesses in 
great men. This consoles us, in same measure, 
for our own lowness, and raises us, in some sort, 
to their elevation. In short, consider a fe'strr/ as 
a register of times and a. picture of maimers : you 
may discover yours^f there, without any offence to 
your vanity. 

I shall exhort you, my son, rather to take pains 
with your heart, than to improve your understand- 
ing : that ought to be the great study of your life. 
The tr.ue greatness of man lies in the heart ; it must 
be elevated by aspiring to great things, and by dar- 
ing to think ourselves worthy of them. It is as be- 
coming to encourage a little vanity within one's 
self, as it is ridiculous to show it io others. 



TO I7F.R SO.N. 1G3 

Take care to have thoughts and sentiments wor- 
thy of you. Virtue raises the dignity of man, and 
vij© degrades him. If one was unhappy enough 
to want an honest heart, one ought for one's own 
interest to correct it ; nothing makes a man truly 
valuable but his heart, and nothing but that can 
make him happy ; since our happiness depends on- 
ly en the nature of our inclinations. If they are 
such as lead you to trifling passions, you will be the 
sport of their vain attachments; they offer you 4 flow- 
ers ; but always (as Montaigne says) mistrust the 
treachery of your pleasures.' 

We must not indulge ourselves long in things that 
please us : the moment that we give ourselves up 
to them, we lay the foundation of our sorrows. Tin 
generality of mankind employ the first part of th c ,ir 
life in making the rest of it miserable. You must 
not abandon reason in your pleasures, if you would 
find it again in your troubles. 

In short, keep a strict guard over your heart; it 
is the source of innocence and happiness. You 
will not pay too dear for the freedom of your mind 
and heart, though you purchase it by the sacrifice 
of your pleasures, as was the saying of an ingeni- 
ous man. Never expect, then, to reconcile sensu- 
ality with glory, or the charm of voluptuousness 
with the recompense of virtue. However, when 
you bid adieu to pleasures, you will find in other 
things satisfaction enough to make you amends. 
There are various sorts of it ; glory and truth have 
their pleasures; they are the delights of the soul 
and heart. 

Learn likewise to reverence and stand in awe of 
yourself. The foundation of happiness is laid in 
the peace of the mind and secret testimony of the 



168 ADVICE OF A MOTHER 

conscience. By the word conscience, I mean the 
inward sense of a nice honour, which assures you 
that you have nothing to reproach yourself with. 
Again, how happy is it to know how to live with one's 
self, to renew your acquaintance there with plea- 
sure, and quit yourself for a time with regre* ! The 
world then indeed is less necessary to you : but 
take care it does not make you out of humour with 
it ; one must not entertain an aversion for men ; 
they will desert you when you desert them : you 
have still occasion for them, you are not either of 
an age or profession to do without them ; but when 
one knows how to live with one's self as well as 
with the world, they are two pleasures that sup- 
port one another. 

A passion for glory may contribute greatly to 
your advancement and happiness ; but it may like- 
wise make you unhappy and despicable, if you 
know not how to govern it : it is the most active 
and lasting of all your inclinations. The love of 
glory is the last passion that quits us ; but we must 
not confound it with vanity. Yar.ity aims at the 
approbation of other people; true glory, at the se- 
cret testimony of the conscience. Endeavour to 
gratify the passion that you have for gleay ; make 
sure of this inward testimony : your tribunal is seat- 
ed in your own breast, why then should you seek 
it elsewhere ? You can always be a judge of your 
own worth. Let men dispute your good qualities, 
if they please ; as they do not know you, you can 
easily console yourseif. It is not of so much conse- 
quence to be thought an honest man, as to be one. 
Such as do not mind the approbation of other peo- 
ple, but only aim at deserving it, take the surest 
way to obtain both. What affnviy is there between 



TO HER SON. 169 

flic greatness of man, and the littleness of the things 
which make the subject of his glorying ; there is 
toothing so ill suited as his dignity, and the vanity 
that he derives from an infinite number of trifling 
things: a glory so ill grounded shows a great want 
of merit. Persons tnat are truly great are not sub- 
ject to the infatuations of vain-glory. 

One must, if it be possible, my son, be content 
with one's condition in the world : there is nothing 
more rare and valuable, than to find persons that 
are satisfied with it. It is our own fault. There 
is no condition of life so bad, but it has one good 
side. Every situation has its point of view ; we 
should place it in that favourable light, and shall 
find, that it is not the fault of our situations, but 
purely our own. We have much more reason to 
complain of our own temper than of fortune. We 
lay all the blame upon events, when all the faul* 
lies upon our discontent ; the evil is within us, let 
us not see 1 .: foi it any where else. By qualifying ou 
temper, v/e often change our fortune. It is much 
c't-ier for us to adjust ourselves to things, than to 
adjust things to ourselves. A great application to 
£ iid out a remedy frequently irritates the disease, 
and the imagination conspires with the pain to in- 
crease and fortify it. A dwelling upon misfortune? 
renews them, by making them present to the mind. 
An useless struggling to get out of our circumstan- 
ces makes us slower in contracting an acquaint- 
ance with them, which would make them sit easy 
on us. One must always give way to misfortunes, 
aixi have recourse to patience : it is the only way 
fo alleviate them. 

If you would do yourself justice, you will be con- 
wtjt with your situation. I dare say, that after the 



170 ADVICE OK A MOTHER 

less we have suffered, if you had had another mo* 
ther, you would be still fuller of complaints. Re- 
flect on the advantages of your condition, and you 
will be less sensible of the difficulties of it. A wise 
man, in the same circumstances with others, has 
mere advantages, and feels fewer inconveniences, 
than they. 

You may depend upon it, that there is no condi- 
tion but has its troubles ; it is the situation of hu- 
man life ; there is nothing pure and unblended in it. 
It is to pretend to exempt one's self from the com- 
mon law of our nature to expect a constant happi- 
ness. The very persons, whom you think the hap- 
piest, would hardly appear so to you, if you knew 
the exact situation of their fortune or their heart. 
Those that are raised the highest are frequently the 
most unhappy. With great employments and vul- 
gar maxims, one is always restless and uneasy : it 
is not places, but reason, that removes anxiety from 
the mind. If ) 7 ou are wise, fortune can neither in- 
crease nor diminish your happiness. 

Judge by yourself, and not by the opinions of 
others. Misfortunces and disorders arise from false 
judgments; false judgments from our passions: 
and passions from our conversation with mankind . 
you always come from them more perfect than you 
were before. To weaken the impressions that they 
make upon you, and to moderate your desires and 
inquietudes, consider that time is continually run- 
ning away with your pains as well as your pleas- 
ures; that every moment, young as you are, car- 
ries off a part of yourself; that all things are per- 
petually sinking into the abyss of past time, thence 
never to return again. 

All that you see greatest on earth meets with the 



TO HER SON. 1 71 

very same treatment as yourself. The honouri, the 
dignities, the precedences settled among men, are 
mere shows and ceremonies, without any reality ; 
do not imagine that they are qualities inseparable 
from their being. Thus ought you to consider such 
as are above you ; but take in your view likewise 
as infinite number of miserable wretches that are 
bolow you : th6 difference between you and them 
is owing oniy to chance ; but pride, and the great 
opinion we have of ourselves, make us think that 
the good condition we are in is no more than our 
due, and consider e?ery thing that we do not en- 
joy as a robbeiy df vrhat should belong to us : you 
cannct but soc plainly that nothing is more unrea- 
sonable than such an imagination. Enjoy, my son, 
the advantages of your circumstances : tut suffer 
patiently the inconveniences that attend them. 
Consider, that wh*,reY3r there are men there are un- 
happy creatures. Enlarge your mind, if possible, 
so far as to foresee and know all the accidents that 
can befall you. In a word, remember that a man's 
happiness depends on his manners and conduct ; 
but the highest felicity is to seek for it in the paths 
of innocence, and there one never fails to find it 



12 HI 



MAXIMS 

AND 

MOEAL REFLECTIONS, 

BT THE 

DUKE DE LA ROCHEFOUCAULT. 



• Read in tbe morning some of La Rochefeucault's Max- 
ims j consider them, examine them well, and compare 
diem with the real characters you meoi in the even- 
ing.'* 4 Till yon ccme to kni,w mankind by your own 
experience, I know no thing, nor no man, that can, in 
the mean time, bring you so well acquainted wifh them 
as Le Due de la Rochefoucault. His little Br Tfc of 
Maxims, which I would advise you to look into, for 
some moments at least, every day of your lifo, ?.3, I 
fear, too like and too exact a picture of human nature. 
I own, it seems to degrade it : but yet my experience 
does not convince mo that it degrade! it unjustly.'! 



The desire of appearing to be persons of ability 
often pi events our being so. 

No accidents are so unlucky, but that the pru- 
dent may draw some advantage from them : nor 
are there any so lucky, but what the imprudent 
may turn to their prejudice. 
Great actions, the lustre of which dazzles us, are re- 

* See Chesterfield's Letters : Letter 225. 
t Letter 273. 



MORAL REFLECTIONS. 17J 

presented by politicians as the effect of deep design ; 
whereas they are commonly the effects of caprice 
and passion. Thus the war between Augustas and 
Antony, supposed to be owing to their ambition to 
give a master to the world, arose probably from 
jealousy. 

There is nothing of which we are so liberal as of 
advice. 

We may give advice ; but we cannot give con- 
duct. 

"We aro never made so ridiculous by the qualities 
we have, as by those we affect to have, 

We had better appear to be what we are, than 
affect to appear what we are not. 

We judge so superficially of things, that com- 
mon words and actions, spoke and done in an 
agreeable manner, with some knowledge of what 
passes in the world, often succeed beyond the great- 
est ability. 

The ambitious deceive themselves in proposing 
an end to their ambition ; for that end, when at- 
tained, becomes a means. 

When great men suffer themselves to be subdued 
by the length of their misfortunes, they discover 
that the strength of their ambition, not of their un- 
derstanding, was that which supported them. 
They discover too, that, allowing for a little vanity, 
heroes are just like other men. 

We pass often from love to ambition ; but we 
seldom return from ambition to love. 

Those who apply themselves too much to little 
things, commonly become incapable of great ones. 

Few things are impracticable in themselves; 
and it is for want of application, rather than of 
means, that men fail of success. 



1*4 MAXIMS aSD 

Avarice is more opposite to economy than liber- 
ality 

Extreme avarice almost always makes mistakes. 
There is no passion that oftener misses its aim, nor 
on which the present has so much influence in pre- 
judice of the future. 

Avarice often produces contrary effects. There 
are many people who sacrifice their whole fortunes 
to dubious and distant expectations ; there are 
others who contemn great future for little present 
advantages. 

We like better to see those on whom we confer 
benefits, than those from whom we receive them. 

Civility is a desire to receive civility, and to bo 
accounted well-bred. 

That conduct often seems ridiculous, the secret 
reasons of which are wise and solid. 

A man often imagines he acts, when he is acted 
upon ; and while his mind aims at one thing, his 
heart insensibly gravitates towards another. 

In conversation, confidence has a greater share 
than wit. 

In love, there are two sorts cf constancy : one 
arises from our continually finding in the favourite 
object fresh motives to love ; the other, from our 
making it a point of honour~to be constant. 

None but the contemptible are apprehensive of 
contempt. 

One reason why we meet with so few people who 
are reasonable and agreeable in conversation is, 
that there is scarcely any body who does not think 
more of what he has to say, than of answering 
what is said to him : Even those who have the most 
address and politeness, think they do enough if 
they only seem to t>e attentive ; at the same time 



MORAL REFLECTIONS. 175 

their eyes and their minds betray a distraction at 
to what is addressed to them, and an impatience 
to return to what they themselves were saying : 
not reflecting, that to be thus studious of pleasing 
themselves, is but a poor way of pleasing- or con- 
vincing others ; and that to hear patiently, and an 
swer precisely, are the great perfections of conver 
sation. 

We easily forget crimes that are known only to 
ourselves. 

The greatest of all cunning is, to seem blind to 
the snares laid for us : men are never so easily de- 
ceived as while they are endeavouring to deceivo 
others. 

Cunning and treachery proceed from want of ca- 
pacity. 

The sure way to be cheated, is to fancy ourselves 
more cunning than others. 

Few people are well acquainted with death. It 
is generally submitted to through stupidity and cus- 
tom, not resolution. Most men die merely because 
tbey cannot help it. 

Death and the sun are not to be looked at steadily. 

It is as easy to deceive ourselves without our 
perceiving it, as it is difficult to deceive others 
without their psreeiving it. 

decency is the least of all laws, but the most 
strictly tifc&raefi. 

It is u.ach easier to suppress a first desire, than to 
satisfy those that follow. 

Before we passionately wish for any thing, we 
should examine into the happiness of its possessor. 

Were we perfectly acquainted with the object, 
we should never passionately desire it. 

Were we to take as much pains to be what we 



176 MAXIMS AND 

ought, as we do to disguise what we are, we might 
appear like ourselves, without being at the trouble 
of any disguise at all. 

We are so used to disguise ourselves to others, 
that at last we become disguised even to ourselves. 

A man who finds not satisfaction in himself 
seeks for it in vain elsewhere. 

Envy is more irreconcilable than hatred. 

Envy is destroyed by true friendship, and co- 
quetry by true love. 

A great genius will sincerely acknowledge his 
defects as well as his perfections : it id a weakness 
not to own the ill as well as the good that is in us. 

Had we no faults ourselves, we should take less 
pleasure in observing those of others. 

Flattery is a sort of bad monev, to which our va- 
nity gives currency. 

We should manage our fortune like our constitu- 
tion : enjoy it when good, have patience when bad ; 
and never apply violent remedies but in cases of 
necessity. 

It is more dishonourable to distrust a friend, than 
to be deceived by him. 

We always love those who admire us; but we 
do not always love thoce whom we admire. 

Rare as true love is, it is less sc than true friend- 
ship. 

The greatesi effort of nrwmdshtp ie, not the disco- 
very of our faults to a friend, but the endeavouring 
to make him see bis own. 

A fool has not stuff enough to make a good man. 

Resolute people alone can be truly good natured ; 
such as commonly seem so are weak, and easily 
soured. 

Good sense should be the test of all rules, both 



MORAL REFLECTIONS. 17? 

ancient &nd modern : whatever is incompatible with 

good sense is false. 

It is more difficult to prevent being governed, 
tb?.n Ic govern ethers. 

Gravity is a mysterious carriage of the body, in- 
vented to cover the defects of the mind. 

A good grace is to the body, what good sense is 
to the mind. 

None are either so happy or so unhappy as they 
imagine. 
We take lesspains to be happy, than to appears®. 
Happiness is in the taste, not in the thing ; and 
we are me.de happy by pecsessing what we our- 
selves lovo, not what others think lovely. 

Whan cur hatred is violent, it sinks us even be- 
ce&ih those we hate 

£ very body speaks well of his heart, but no one 
•dares to cr^uk well of his head. 

The head is always the dupe of the heart 
The head cannot long act the part of the heart. 
One acquired honour is surety for more. 
Hope, deceitful as it is, carries us agreeably 
through life. 

Our humour is more iu fault than our under- 
standing. 

The calm Gr disquiet of our temper depends 
not so much on affairs of moment, as on the dispo- 
sition of the trifles that daily occur, 

Hypocrisy is the homage that vice pays to virtue. 
It is a mistake to imagine, that the violent pas- 
sions only, such as ambition and love, can triumph 
over the rest. Idleness, languid as it is, often mas- 
ters them all : she indeed influences all our designs 
and actions, and insensibly consumes and destroy* 
£oth passions and virtues. 



*78 MAXIMS AND 

Idleness is more in the mind than in the body. 

Only suoh persons who avoid giving jealousv are 
deserving of it. 

Jealousy is always born with love, but does not 
always die with it. 

Jealousy is nourished by doubt ; it either becomes 
madness, or ceases as soon as we arrive at certain- 

In jealousy there is less love than self-Jove. 
There is a species of love whose excess prevents 
jealousy. 

Philosophy easily triumphs over past and future 
os ; but present ills triumph over philosophy. 

The good we have received from a man should 
make us bear with the ill he does us. 
^ It is less dangerous to do ill to most men, than to 
oo them tco much good. 

We seldom fmd people ungrateful so long as we 
rre in a condition to serve them. 

Interest speaks all languages, and acts all parts, 
even that of disinterestedness itself. 

Intrepidity is an extraordinary strength of souL 
that renders it superior to the trouble, disorder 
and emotion which the appearance of daneer is apt 
to excite. By this quality heroes maintain their 
tranquility, and preserve the free use of their rea- 
son, in the most surprising and dregful arcidents 
livery one complains cf the badness of his memo 
ry, hut nobody of his judgment. 

To know things well, we shouM know them i* 
derail; anc as that is in a manner infinite, out 

^w d ! £gU l Se C3n l0ng ^^Kwhae it is, no, 
feig?i it, where it is not. 



MORAL REFLECTIONS. m 

To judge of love by most of its effects, one would 
think it more like hatred than kindness 

There is only one sort of love, but there are a 
thousand different copies of it. 

Love, like fire, cannot subsist without continual 
motion ; it ceases to exist, as soon as it ceases to 
hope or fear. 

There are people who would never havo been in 
love, had they never heard talk of it. 

To fall in love is much easier than to get rid of it. 

Novelty to love is like the bloom to fruit ; k gives 
a lustre, which is easily effaced, but never return*. 

It is impossible to love those a second time whom 
we have really ceased to love. 

In love, tho«3 who aiejirst cured arebest cuied. 

All the passions make us commit faults ; but love 
makes us guilty of the most ridiculous ones. 

To study men is mors necessary than to s£udy 
books. 

The truly honest man is he who valueth not him 
self on any thing. 

Ke must be a truly honest man who is willing to 
be always open to the inspection of honest men. 

A man of sense may love like a madman, but 
never like a fool. 

Some people are disgusting with great merit ; 
others with great faults very pleasing. 

Our merit procures us the esteem of men of sense, 
and our good fortune that of the public. 

The appearance of merit is oftener rewarded by 
the world than merit itself. 

We should not judge of a man's merit by hi* 
great qualities, but by the use he makes of them, 
Few people know haw to be old. 



ISO MAXIMS AND 

Opportunities make us known to ourselves and 
others. 

The passions are the only orators that always 
succeed. They are, as it were, nature's art of elo- 
quence, fraught with infallible rules. Simplicity, 
with the aid of the passions, persuades more than 
the utmost eloquence without it. 

So much injustice and self-interest enter into the 
composition of the passions, that it is very dangerous 
to obey their dictates ; and we ought to be on our 
guard against them, even when they seem most rea- 
sonable. 

Absence destroys small passions, and increases 
great ones ; as the wind extinguishes tapers, and 
kindles fires. 

While the heart is still agitated by the remains of 
a passion, it is more susceptible of a new one, than 
when entirely at rest. 

He who is pleased with nobody, is much more 
unhappy than he with whom nobody is pleased. 

If we were not proud ourselves, we should not 
complain of the pride of others. 

We promise according to our hopes, and perform 
according to our fears. 

Most men, like plants, have secret properties, 
which chance discovers. 

Prudence and love are inconsistent ; in propor- 
tion as the last increases, the other decreases. 

Few are so wise as to prefer useful reproof to 
treacherous praise 

There are reproaches that praise, and praises 
that reproach 

Ambition to merit praise fortifies our virtue. 
Praise bestowed on wit, valour, and beauty, con- 
tributes to their augmentation. 



MORAL REFLECTIONS. 181 

It is not enough to have great qualities, we must 
also have the management of them. 

It is with some good qualities as with the senses; 
they are incomprehensible awl inconceivable to 
Euch as are deprived of them. 

Naturally *o be without envy is a certain indica- 
tion of great qualities. 

Quarrels would never last long, if the fault was 
on one side only. 

We never desire ardently what we desire ra- 
tionally. 

Whatever ignominy we may have incurred, it is 
almost always in our power to re-establish our re- 
putation. 

How can we expect that another should keep our 
secret, when it is more t-han we can do ourselves. 
Self-love is more artful than the most artful of men. 
Sslf-love, well or ill conducted, constitutes virtue 
and vice. 

Human prudence, rightly understood, is circum- 
spect, enlightened self-love. 

Notwithstanding all discoveries that have been 
made in the regions of self-love, there still remains 
nrach terra incognita. 

It is less difficult to feign t«he sensations we have 
not, than to conceal those we have. 

Affected simplicity is refined imposture. 
The health of the soul is as precarious as that of 
the body ; for when we seem secure from passions, 
we are no less in danger of their infection, than we 
are of falling ill when we appear to be well. 

There are relapses in the distempers of the soul 
as well as in those of the body : thus we often mis- 
take for a cure what is no more than an intermis- 
sion or a change of disease. 



1S2 MAXIMS AND 

The flaws of the soul resemble the wounds of the 
body ; the scar always appears, and they are in 
danger of breaking open again. 

As it is the characteristic of great wits to say 
much in few words, so small wits seem to have 
the gift of speaking much, and saying nothing. 

The excessive pleasure we find in talking of our- 
selves ought to make us apprehensive that it gives 
but little to our auditors. 

It is never more difficult to speak well, than when 
we arc ashamed ef our silence. 

A good taste is the effect of judgment more than 
understanding. 

Tillcs, instead of exalting, debase those who act 
not up to them. 

Valeur in a private soldier is a hazardous trade, 
taken up to get a livelihood. 

Perfect valour consists in doing without witness- 
es all we should be capable of doing before the 
whole world. 

No man can answer for his courage who has ne- 
ver been in danger. 

If vanity really overturns not the virtues, it cer- 
tainly makes them totter. 

The most violent passions have their intermis- 
sions i vanity alone gives us no respite. 

The reason why the pangs of shame and jeal- 
ousy are so sharp, is this : — vanity gives us no as- 
sistance in supporting them. 

When our vices have left us, we flatter ourselves 
that we have left them. 

Prosperity is a stronger trial of virtue than ad- 
versity. 

The virtues are lost in interest, as rivers are m 
the sea. 



MORAL REFLECTIONS. 183 

To the honour of virtue it must be acknowledg- 
ed, that the greatest misfortunes befal men from 
their vices. 

We despise not all those who have vices ; but we 
despise all those who have no virtues. 

There are people, who, like new songs, are in 
vogue only for a time. 

Those are deceived who imagine wit and judg- 
ment to be two distinct things. Judgment is only 
the perfection of wit, which penetrates into the re- 
cesses of things, observes all that merits observation, 
and perceives what seems imperceptible. We must 
therefore agree, that it is extensive wit which pro- 
duces all the effects attributed to judgment. 

It is a common fault, never to be satisfied with 
our fortune, nor dissatisfied with our understanding. 

Politeness of mind consists in a courteous and 
delicate conception. 

The defects of the mkid, like those of the face, 
grow worse as we grow old. 

It is a better employment of the understanding to 
bear the misfortunes that actually befal us, than to 
penetrate into those that may. 

Those who have but one sort of wit are sure not 
to please long. 

A man of sense finds less difficulty in submitting 
to a wrong-headed fellow, than in attempting to set 
him right. 

The labours of the body free men from pains of 
the mind. 

This it is that constitutes the happiness of the poor. 

Small geniusses are hurt by small events : great 
geniusses see through and despise them. 

Weakness is more opposite to virtue than is vice 
itself. 



154 MAXIMS AND 

Weak people are incapable of sincerity. 

If there be a man whose weak side has never been 
discovered, it is only because ws have never ac- 
curately looked for it. 

We often forgive those who tire us, but cannot 
forgive those whom wc tire. 

We have more power than will ; and it is only 
to digculpate us to ourselves, that we often think 
things impracticable. 

Man's chief wisdom consists in knowing his fol- 
lies. 

Wisdom is to the mind what health is to tie 
body. 

The common foible of women who have been 
handsome, is to forget that they are now no longer 
so. 

Of all the violent passions, that which least Bbis- 
bscomes a woman is love. 

Youth is continual intoxication. It is the fevei 
oi reason. 



THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 







Method requires, that in my entrance on this 
work I should explain the nature of that science to 
which I have given the name of Polite Philosophy. 
Though I am not very apt to write methodically, 
yet I think it becomes me on this occasion to show 
that my title is somewhat apropos. 

Folks that are skilled in Greek tell us, that Philo- 
sophy means no more than the love of wisdom ; and 
J, by the adjunction of Polite, v/ould be understood 
to mean that sort of wisdom which teaches men to 
be at peace in themselves, and neither by their 
words or behaviour to disturb the peace of others. 

Academical critics may perhaps expect tha< \ 
should at least quote some Greek sage or other, as 
the patron of that kind of knowledge, which I am 
about to restore ; and as I pique myself on obliging 
evciy man in his way, I shall put them in mind of 
-on* Aristippus, who was professor of Polite Philo- 
sophy at Syracause, in the days of the famous King 
Dionyslus, m whose favour he stood higher than 
even Plato himself. Should they go further, and 
demand an account of his tenets, I must turn them 
over to Horace, who has comprised them all in one 
tin* — 

1 Om-nis Aristippum decuit color, et status, et res.* 

Secure, his soul preserv'd a constant frame, 
Through every varying scene of life the same. 

In the court of the king of Sicily, this wise man 
enjoyed all the delights that would have satisfied a 



186 THE POTJTE PHILOSOPHER. 

sensual mind ; but it was the use of these which 
shewed him a true philosopher. He was tempe- 
rate in them, while he possessed them ; and easy 
without them, when they were no longer in his 
power. In a word, he had the integrity of Diogenes, 
without his churlishness ; and as his wisdom was 
useful to himself, so it rendered him agreeable to 
the rest of the world. 

Aristippus had many pupils ; but for the regular 
succession in his school, k has either not been re 
corded by the Greek writers, ot at least by any of 
them that came to my hand. Among the Romans, 
indeed, this kind of knowledge was in the highest 
esteem ; and that at the time when the reputation 
of the commonwealth was at its greatest height. 
Scipio was less distinguished by the laurels he hai 
acquired from foreign conquests, than by the myr- 
tle garland he wore as a professor in his art. The 
familiar letters of Cicero are so many short lectures 
in our science, and the life of Pomponius Atticus, a 
praxis on polite philosophy. 

I would not be suspected to mention these great 
names with an intent to display learning ; far be it 
from me to write a satire on the age ; all I aim at is, 
to convince the beaux esprits of our times, that what 
I teach, they may not receive with disparagement, 
since they tread thereby in the same road with the 
greatest heroes of antiquity ; and in this way at least, 
emulate the characters of Alexander and Ca?sar. 
Or, if those old fashioned commanders exehe not 
their ambition, I will venture to assure tliem, that 
in this track only they will be able to approach the 
immortal Prince Eugene ; who, glorious from his 
courage, and amiable from his clemency, is yet less 
dis^uaguished by bis rank than by his politeness. 



THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 187 

After naming Prince Eugene, it would debase my 
subject to add another example. I shall proceed 
therefore to the taking notice of such qualities of 
the mind as are requisite for my pupils to have, 
previous to the receipt of these instructions. 

But as vanity is one ef the greatest impediments 
in the road of a polite philosopher ; and as he who 
takes upon himself to be a preceptor, ought at least 
not to give an ill example to his scholars ; it will 
»ot be improper for me to declare, that, in compo- 
sing this piece, I had in my eye that precept of Se- 
neca—* Hsec aliis die, ut dum dicis, audias ; ipse 
scribe, ut dum, scripseris, legas.' Which, for the 
sake of the ladies, I shall translate into English, 
and into verse, that I may gratify my own preperv- 
sity to rhyming — 

Speaking to others, what you dictate bear i 
And learn yourself, while teaching you appear. 

Thus you see me stript of the ill-obeyed authority 
©fa pedagogue ; and are for the future to consider 
me only as a school-fellow playing the master, that 
we may the better conquer the difficulties of our 
task. 

To proceed then in the character which, for my 
own sake as well as yours, I have put on, let me 
remind you, in the first place, 

That Reason, however antique you may think it, 
is a thing absolutely necessary in the composition 
of him who endeavours at tho acquiring a philoso- 
phical politeness; and let us receive it as a rp.axrm, 
that without Reason there is no being a fine gentls- 
man. 

However, to soften, at the same time tbat we 
vield to this constraint, I tell my blooming audieooe 
13 I 



188 THE POLITE FHILOSOfiiER. 

with pleasure, that Reason, like a fop's imc? .j 
waistcoat, may be worn out of sight ; and provide i 
it be but worn at all, I shall not quarrel with them, 
though vivacity, like a laced shirt, be put over it to 
conceal it ; for to pursue the comparison, our minds 
suffer no less from indiscretion, than our bodies 
from the injuries of the weather. 

Next to this, another out-of-the-way qualification 
must be acquired ; and that is, Calmness. Let not 
the smarts of the university, the sparks of the side- 
boxes, or the genteel flutterers of the drawing room, 
imagine, that I will deprive them of those elevated 
enjoyments — drinking tea with a toast, gallanting a 
fen, c~: roving, like a butterfly, through a parterre of 
beauties: no; I am far from being the author of 
such severe institutions ; but am, on the contrary,, 
willing to indulge them in their pleasures, as long 
as they preserve their senses. By which 1 would 
be understood to mean, while they act in character, 
and suffer not a fond inclination, and aspiring vani- 
ty, or a giddy freedom, to transport them into th«r 
doing any thing which may forfeit present advan- 
tages, or entail upon them future pam. 

I shall have frequent occasions in the following 
pages to show from examples, of what mighty use 
reason and undisturbed temper are to men of great 
commerce in the world ; and therefore shall insist 
no further on them here. 

The last disposition cf thesoul which I shall men* 
tion, as necessary to him who would become a pro- 
ficient in this science, is Good-nature; a quality 
which, as Mr. Dry den said in a dedication to one 
of the best-natured men of his time, deserves the 
highest esteem, though, from an unaccountable de^ 
pravity of both taste and morals, it meets with the 



Til*: ^ULl lb i'fcLiLo30PHEK. 189 

lea ,t. For can there be any thing more amiable in 
hu nan nature, than to think, to speak, and to do, 
whatever good lies in our power to all ? No man 
who looks upon the sun, and who feels that oheer- 
fuli'i££€ which his beams inspire, bat would rather 
wish himself like so glorious a being, than to re- 
semble trie tiger, however formidable for its fierce- 
ness ; or the serpent, hated for hissing, and dreaded 
for his sting. Good-nature may indeed be made 
almost diffusive as day-light ; but short are the ra- 
vages of the tiger, innocent the bite of a serpent, to 
the vengeance of a cankered heart, or the malice 
of an invenomed tongue. To this let me add ano- 
ther argument in favour of this benevolence of soul ; 
and farther persuasions will, I flatter myself, be un- 
necessary. Good-nature adorns every perfection a 
man is master of, and throws a veil over every ble- 
mish which would otherwise appear. In a word, 
like a skilful painter, it places his virtues in the fair- 
est light, and casts all his foibles into shade. 

Thus, in a few words, Sense, Moderation, and 
Sweetness, are essential to a Polite Philosopher. — 
And if you think you cannot acquire these, even lay 
my book aside. But before you do that, indulge 
me yet a moment longer. Nature denies the first 
to few ; the second is in every man's power ; and 
no man need be without the last, who either valuei 
general esteem, or is not indifferent to public hate. 
For, to say truth, what is necessary to make an ho- 
nest man, properly applied, would make a polite 
one ; and as almost every one would take it amiss, 
if we should deny him the first appellation ; so you 
may perceive from thence how few there are who, 
but from their own indiscretion, may deserve the se- 
cond. It is want of attention, not capacity, wkreo 



190 THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 

leaves us so many brutes ; and I flatter m\ self, 
there will be fewer of this species, if any of them, 
can be prevailed upon to read this. A description 
of their faults is to such the fittest lecture ; for few 
monsters there are who can view themselves in a 
glass. 

Our follies, when display'd, ourselves affright 
Few are so bad to bear the odious sight. 
Mankind in herds, thro' force of custom, stray, 
Mislead each other into Error's way, 
Pursue the road, forgetful of the end, 
Sin by mistake, and without thought offend. 

My readers, who have been many of them accus- 
tomed to think politeness rather an ornamental ac- 
complishment, than a thing necessary to be acquired 
in order to an easy and happy life, may from thence 
pay less attention than my instructions require, un- 
less I can convince them they are in the wrong. In 
order to which, I must put them in mind, that the 
tranquillity, even felicity of our days, depends as 
strongly on small things as on great ; of which men 
may be easily convinced, if they but reflect how 
great uneg.siness they have experienced from cross 
accidents, although they related but to trifles; and 
at the same time remember that disquiet is of all 
others the greatest evil, let it arise from what H will. 

Now, in the concerns of life, as in those of for- 
tune, numbers are brought into what are called bad 
circumstances from small neglects, rather than from 
any great errors in material affairs. People are too 
apt to thkk lightly of shillings and pence, forgetting 
that they are the constituent parts of pounds ; until 
the deficiency in the greater articles shows them 
their mistake, and convinces them by fatal experi- 



' THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 191 

ence of a truth, which they might have learned from 
a little attention, viz. that great sums are made up 
of small. 

Exactly parallel to this, is that wrong notion 
which many have, that nothing more is due from 
them to their neighbours, than what results from a 
principle of honesty, — which commands us to pa) r 
our debts, and forbids to do injuries; whereas a 
thousand little civilities, complacencies, and en- 
deavours to give others pleasure, are requisite to 
keep up the relish of life, and procure us that affec- 
tion and esteem, which every man who has a sense 
of it must desire. And in the right timing and 
discreet management of these punctilios, consists 
*he essence of what we call politerfess. 

How many know the general rules of art, 
Which unto tablets human forms impart ? 
How many can depict the rising - brow, 
The nose, the mouth, and every feature shew % 
Can in their colours imitate the skin, 
And by the force of fire can fix them in ? 
Yet when 'tis done, unpleasing to the sight, 
Tho' like the picture, strikes not with delight. 
'Tis zinc alone gives the enamcl'd face 
A polish'd sweetness and a glossy grace. 

Examples have, generally speaking, greater forca 
than precepts: I will therefore delineate the cha- 
racters of Honorius and Gracia, two gentlemen of 
my acquaintance, whose humour I have perfectly 
considered, and shall represent them without the 
least exaggeration. 

Honorius is a person equally distinguished by 
his birth and fortune. He has naturally good senso, 
and that too hath been improved by a regular edu- 
cation. His wit is lively, and bis morals without % 



192 THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 

gtain. — Is not this an amiable character ? Yet Ho- 
norius is not beloved. He has, some way or other, 
contracted a notion, that it is beneath a man of ho- 
nour to fall below the height of truth in any degree, 
or on any occasion whatsoever. From this princi- 
ple he speaks bluntly what he thinks, without re- 
garding the company who are by. Some weeks 
ago he read a lecture on female hypocrisy before a 
married couple, though the lady was much suspect- 
ed on that head. Two hours after, he fell into a 
warm declamation against simony and priest-craft 
before two dignitaries of the church ; and from a 
continued course of this sort of behaviour, had ren- 
dered himself dreaded as a monitor, instead of be- 
ing esteemed as a friend. 

Gracia, on the contrary, came into the world un- 
der the greatest disadvantages. His birth was 
mean, and his fortune not to be mentioned : yet, 
though he is scarce forty, he has acquired a hand- 
some fortune in the country, and lives upon it with 
more reputation than most of his neighbours. While 
a servitor at the university, he by his assiduities re- 
commended himself to a noble lord, and thereby 
procured himself a place of fifty pounds a year in a 
public office. His behaviour there made him as 
many friends as there were persons belonging to his 
board. His readiness in doing favours gained him 
the hearts of his inferiors ; his deference for those 
of the highest characters in the office, procured him 
their good will ; and the complacency he expressed 
towards his equals, and those immediately above 
him, made them espouse his interest with almost aa 
much warmth as they did their own. By this ma- 
nagement in ten j'ears 1 time he rose to the posees- 
fkm of an office which brought him in a thousand 



THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 193 

pounds a year salary, and nearly double as much 
perquisites. Affluence hath made no alteration in 
liis manners. The same easiness of disposition at- 
tends hi m in that fortune to which it has raised 
iiim, — and he is at this day the delight <*f all who 
fenow him, ftom an art he has of persuading them, 
that ineii pleasures and their interests are equally 
•dear uj him with his own. Who, if it were in his 
•power, would not refuse what Honorius possess- 
*-l? and who would not wish that possession ar> 
<.T,n;pauied with Gracia's disposition: 

I Matter iny self, that by this tin>e most of my read- 
ers have acquired a tolerable idea of politeness, 
and a just notion of its use in our passage through 
life. I. must, however, caution them of one thing, 
ihat under the notion of politeness, they fall neither 
into a contempt or carelessness ef science. 

A man may have much learning without being a 
^pedant ; nay, it is necessary that he should have a 
.considerable stock of .knowledge before he can be 
polite. The gloss is never given till the work is fin- 
ished ; without it the best wrought piece is clum- 
sy ; hut varnish over a rough board is a preposte- 
rous daub. In a word, that rule of Horace, * mis- 
<cere utile dulci,' so often quoted, can never be bet- 
ter applied than in the present case, where neither 
of the qualities can subsist without the other. 

With dress, for once, the rule of Hie we'H ; pIace, 
doth is plain sense, and polish d breeding laoe. 
Men may in both mistake the true design ; 
Fools oft are taudry, when they would be fine. 
An equal mixture both of use and show, 
i-Vofli .giddy fops points the accompUsh'd beat*. 

$J<iviniC = now.gone through the praecognlta of £«- 



194 THE FOLiTJE PHILOSOPHER; 

lite Philosophy, it is- requisite we should descend 
with greater particularity into its several branches, 

For though exactness would not be a piece either 
with the nature or intent of this work, yet some or- 
der is absolutely necessary, because nothing is morer 
unpolite than to be obscure. Some philosophers* 
have indeed prided themselves in a mysterious way. 
of speaking ; wrapping their maxims in so tough a 
coat, that the kernel, when found, seldom atoned- 
for the pains cf the finder. 

The polite sage thinks in a quite different way- 
Perspicuity is the garment in which his conceptions- 
appear ; and his sentiments, if they are of any use,, 
carry this additional advantage with them, that 
scarce any labour is required in attaining them. 
Graver discourses, like Galenical medicines, are of- 
ten formidable ia their figure, and nauseous in* the if 
taste. Lectures from a doctor in our science, ]ike 
a chemical extraction, convey knowledge, as it 
were, by drops, and restore sense as the other does 
the health, without the apparatus of physic. 

Harsh to the heart, and grating to the ear, 
Who can reproof without reluctance hear? 
Why against priests the gen'ral heat so strongs 
But that they show us all we do is wrong 1 
Wit well apply'd does, weightier wisdom right, 
And gives us knowledge, while it gives delights 
Thus, on the stage,.we with applause behold, 
What would have pain'd usfromthe pulpit told.- 

It is now time to apply what we have already 
advanced to. those points in which they may be ths> 
most useful to us; and therefore we will begin, by 
considering what advantage the practice of therrt 
will procure in respect to these three things which-. 



THE TOLITE PHILOSOPHER. 19© 

are esteemed of the greatest consequence in thi ge- 
neral opinion of the world. This leads me, m the 
first place, to explain the sentiments and conduct 
of a polite philosopher in regard to religion. lam 
not ignorant,, that there are a multitude of those who 
p&ss both on the world and on themselves for very 
polite persons, who look on this as a topic below 
their notice. Religion (say they with a sneer) is 
the companion of melancholy minds ; but for the 
gayer part of the world, it is ill manners to mention 
it amongst them. Be it so, But give me leave to 
add, that there is no ranker species of ill-breeding* 
than speaking of it sarcastically, or with contempt. 

* Religion, strictly speaking, means the worship 
which men, from a sense of duty, pay to that Be- 
ing unto whom they owe their own existence, with 
all those blessings and benefits which attend it.' 

Let a man but reflect on this definition, and ft 
will be impossible for him not to perceive the treat- 
ing this in a ludicrous way, must not only be unpo- 
lite, bat shocking. Who that has a regard for a 
man would not start at the thought of saying a 
base thing of his father before him ? And yet what 
a distance is there between the notion of a fathej 
and a Creator ! Since, therefore, no further argu- 
ments are necessary to prove the inconsistence be- 
tween raillery and religion, what can be more co- 
gent to a polite man, than thus showing that such 
discourses of his would be mal apropos? 

Thus much for those that might be guilty of un- 
politeness with respect to religion in general, a 
fault unaccountably common in an age which pre- 
tends to be so polite. 

As to particular religions, or rather tenets in reli- 
gion, men are generally warm in them, from one ol 



196 THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 

these two reasons, viz. tenderness of conscience, or 
a high sense of their own judgmeuts. Men of plain. 
hearts and honest dispositions, look on salvation ass 
too serious a thing to be jested with ; a polite man, 
therefore, will he cautious of offending upon that 
head, because he knows he will give the person to 
whom he speaks pain ; a thing very opposite to the 
character of a polished philosopher. The latter 
reason which I have assigned for men's zeal in re- 
Jigious matters, may seem to have less weight than 
the first; but he who considers it attentively will 
be of another opinion. Men of speculative religion, 
who are so from a conviction rather of their heads 
than their hearts, are not a bit less vehement than 
the real devotees. He who says a slight or a severe 
thing of their faith, seems to them to have thereby 
undervalued their understandings, and will conse- 
quently incur their aversion ; which no man of com- 
mon sense would hazard for a lively expression, 
much less a person of good-breeding, who should 
make it his chief aim to be well with all. As a 
mark of my own politeness, I will here take k=avo 
o-i this subject ; since, by dropping it, I shall otlige 
the gay part of my readers, as 1 flatter myself I hava 
already done the graver part, from my manner of 
treating it. 

Like some grave matron of a noble line, 
With awful beauty &oe% Religion shine 
iiksi sonee should teach u* to revere the dame, 
Nor b.y imprudent jetts to sport her fame. 
In common life you'll own this reason right. 
That none but fools in gross abase delight : 
Then use it hero — nor think our caution rain , 
To be polite, mec need not be profane. 

Next to their concerns in the other world, men 






THlE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 197 

are usually most taken up with the concerns of the 
public here. The love of our country is among 
those virtues to which every man thinks he should 
pretend, and the way in which this is generally 
shown, is by falling mto what we call parties; 
where, if a share of good sense allay not that heat 
which is naturally contracted from such engage- 
ments, a man soon falls into all the violences of 
faction, and looks upon every one as his enemy 
who does not express himself about the public good 
in the same terms he does. This is a harsh picture, 
but it is a just one, of the far greater part of those 
who are warm in political disputes. A polite man 
will therefore speak as seldom as he can on topics, 
where, in a mixed company, it is almost impossible 
to say any thing that will please all. 

To say truth, patriotism, properly so called, ii 
perhaps as scarce in this age as in any that has gone 
before us. Men appear to love themselves so well, 
that it seems not altogether credible they should, a* 
every turn, prefer their country's interest to their 
own. The thing looks noble indeed ; and there- 
fore, like a becoming habit, every body would put 
it on. But this is hypocrisy you will say, and there- 
fore ought to be detected. Here the Polite Philo- 
sopher finds new inducements to caution ; sore 
places are always tender ; and people at a masque- 
rade are in pain if you do any thing which may dis- 
cover their faoes. 

Our philosophy is not intended to make a man 
that sour monitor who points out folks' faults, but 
to make them in love with their virtues ; that is, to 
make himself and them easy while he is with them ; 
and to do or say nothing which, on reflection, may 
make them less his friends at the next meeting. 



196 THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 

Let us explain this a little further. The rules we 
offer aie intended rather to guide men in company 
than when alone. What we advance tends not so 
directly to amend people's hearts as to regulate their 
conduct ; a matter which we have already demon- 
strated to be of no small importance. Yet I beg 
you will observe, that though morality be not im- 
mediately our subject, we are far, however, from 
requiring any thing in our pupils contrary there- 
to. 

A polite man may yet be religious, and, if his 
reason be convinced, attached to any interest which, 
in his opinion, suits best with that of the public; 
provided he conform thus far to our system, that on 
no occasion he troubles others with the articles of 
his religious creed or political engagements; or, by 
any stroke of wit or raillery hazard for a laugh that 
disposition of mind which is absolutely necessary 
to make men easy when together. 

Were I, indeed, to indulge my own sentiments, 
I should speak yet with greater freedom on this sub- 
ject. Since there is so vast a disproportion when 
we come to compare those who have really either a 
concern in the governments o* the service of their 
country more particularly at heart, and the men 
who pretend to either merely from a desire of ap- 
pearing of some consequence themselves, we ought 
certainly to avoid making one of that number, and 
aim rather at being quiet within ourselves, and 
agreeable to those among whom we live, lev their 
political notions be what they wili ; inasmuch as 
this is a direct road to happiness, which all men pro- 
fess they would reach if they could. — Pomponius 
Atticus, whose character appears so amiable from 
the concurring testimony of all who mem' ?i him, 



THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 199 

owed the greatest part of that esteem in which he 
lived, and of the reputation by which he still sur- 
vives, unto his steady adherence to this rule His 
benevolence made him love mankind in general, 
and his good sense hindered him from being taint- 
ed with tiiose party prejudices which had bewitched 
his friends. He took not up arms for Casar, nor 
did he abandon Italy when Pompey withdrew bis 
forces, and had in outward form the sanction of the 
commonwealth. He saw too plainly the ambition 
of both ; but he preserved his complacence for his 
friends in each party, without siding with either. 
Success never made them more welcome to Pom- 
pon ins, nor could any defeat lessen them in his es- 
teem. When victorious lie visited them, without 
sharing in their power; and when vanquished he 
received them, without considering any thing but 
their distress. In a few words, he entertained no 
hopes from the good fortune of his friends, nor suf- 
fered the reverse of it to chill his breast with fear. 
His equanimity produced a just effect, and his uni- 
versal kindness made him universally beloved. 

I fancy this picture of a disposition perfectly fiee 
from political sourness, will have an agreeable effect 
on many of my readers, and prevent their falling 
into a common mistake, that the circumstances of 
public persons are the properest of topics for a ge- 
neral conversation ; whereas they never consider 
that it is hard to find a company wherein somebody 
oath not either liking or distaste, or has received in- 
juries or obligations from those who are likeliest to 
3e mentioned on such an occasion ; and who con- 
sequently will be apt to put a serious construction 
on a slight expression, and remember afterwards in 
earnest, what the speaker meant so much a jest as 



200 THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 

never to have thought of it more. These, perhaps, 
may pass with sonic trivial remarks : but with 
those who regard their own ease, and have at all 
observed what conduces to make men disagreeable 
to one another, I flatter myself they will have more 
weight. 

Behaviour is like architecture; the symmetry 
of the whole pleases us so much, that we examine 
not into parts whirl*, if we did, we should find 
much nicety required in forming such a structure: 
though, to persons of no taste, the rules of either art 
would seem to have little connexion with their ef- 
fect. 

That true politeness we can only call, 
Which looks like Jones's fabric at Whitehall ; 
Where just proportion we with pleasure see ; 
Though built by rule, yet from all stiffness free ; 
Though grand, yet plain ; magnificent, but fin* ; 
The ornaments adorning the design. 
It fills our ini-nd with rational delight, 
And pleases on reflection as a slight. 

After these admonitions as to religion and poli- 
tics, it is very fit we observe another topic of mo- 
dern discourse, of which it is hard to say whether 
it may be more common or- more contrary to true 
politeness. What 1 mean, is the reflecting on men's 
professions, and play on those general aspersions 
which have been fixed on them by a sort of ill-na- 
ture hereditary to the world. And with this, as 
the third point which I promised to consider, shall 
be shut up the more serious part of this essay. 

In order to have a proper idea of this point, we 
must first of all consider that the chief cause both 
of love and hatred is custom. When men from a 



THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 201 

long habit, have acquired a faculty of thinking 
clearly, And speaking well in any science, they rd- 
turally like that better than any other ; and this li- 
king in a short time grows up to a warmer affec- 
tion, which renders them impatient whenever their 
darling science is decried in their hearing. A po- 
lite mar. will have a care of not ridiculing pin Vic 
before one of the faculty ; talking disrespectfully of 
lawyers wh«-,n gentlemen of the long robe are by ; 
or speaking contemptibly of the clergy when with 
at y of that order. 

Some critics may possibly object that these are 
solecisms of too gross a nature IGr men of tclera.ie 
Sense or education to bo guilty of : but I appoa! to 
those who are more conversant in the world, whe- 
ther th : s foult, glaring as It is, be not committed 
every day. 

The str;ctcst intimacy can never warrr-nt free- 
doms of this sort; and it is indeed preposterous to 
think it should, unless we can suppose thr.t injuries 
are less evils when done to us by friends, tlnn v/hen 
they come from other hands. 

Excess of wit may oftentimes beguile ; 
Jests are not always pardon'd by a smilo ; 
Men may disguise thuir malice at tbc heart, 
And seem at ease, tho' pain'd with inward smart : 
Mistaken, wc think all such wounds of course 
Reflection cures — alas ! it makes them worse. 
Like scratches, they with double anguish sei&t:, 
Rankle in time, aud fester by degrees. 

Let us now proceed to <peak of raillery in gene- 
ral. Invective is a weapon worn as commonly as 
a sword ; and, like that, is often in the hands of 
those who know not how to use it. Men of true 
courage fight but seldom, and never draw but ivi 



2G2 THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 

their own defence. Bullies are continually squab- 
bling ; and, from the ferocity of their behaviour, 
become the terror of some companies, anr! the jest 
of more. This is just the case of such as lra*« a 
liveliness of thought, directed by propensity to *il- 
nature; indulging themselves at the expense of 
others, they, by degrees, incur the dislike of r.il. 
Meek tempers abhor, men of coel dispositions des- 
pise, and those addicted to choler chastise them. 
Thus the licentiousness of tongue, like a spirit of 
rapine, sets one man against all ; and the defence 
of reputaticn, as well as property, puts the human 
species on regarding a malevolent babbler with a 
worse eye than a common thie-f ; because in.nv) ir» a 
kind of goods which, when once tak-3n away, can 
hardly be restored. Such is the effigies of this r.iv. 
man serpent. Ar.d who, when he has considered 
it, would be thought to have sat for the pioco ? 

It is a thousand to one my book feels the resent- 
ment of Draco, from seeing his own likeness in this 
glass. 

A good family, but no fortune, threw Draco inco 
the army when h3 was very young. Dancing, fen 
cing, and a sm Jittering of the French, are all the 
education either his friends bestowed, or his capa- 
city would allow him to receive. He has been now 
two years in town ; and from swearing, drink hi^, 
find debauching country wenches, (the general route 
of a military rake,) the air of St. James's has given 
his vices a new turn. By dint of an embroidered 
coat, he thrusts himself into the beau coffee-houses, 
where a dauntless effrontery, and a natural voluKu 1 - 
ity of tongue, conspire to make him pass for a fel 
low of wit and spirit. 
A bastard ambition makes him envy every great 



THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 203 

character ; and as he has just sense enough to 
know that his qualifications will never recommend 
him to the esteem of men of sense, or the favour of 
women of virtue, he has thence contracted an an- 
tipathy to both ; and by giving a boundless loose to 
universal malice, makes continual war against ho- 
nour and reputation, wherever he finds them. 

Hecatilla is a "female fire-brand, more dangerous, 
and more artfully vindictive, than Draco himself. 
Birth, wit, and fortune, combine to render her con- 
spicuous; while a splenetic envy sours her other- 
wise amiable qualities, and makes her dreaded as a 
poison doubly dangerous, grateful to the taste, yet 
mortal in the effect. All who see Hecatilla at a 
visit, where the brilliancy of her wit heightens the 
lustre of her charms, are imperceptibly deluded into 
a concurrence with her in opinion ; and suspect not 
dissimulation under the air of frankness, nor a stu- 
died design of doing mischief under a seemingly ca- 
sual stroke of wit. The most sacred character, the 
most exalted station, the fairest reputation, defend 
not from the infectious blast of sprightly raillery : 
borne on the wings of wit, and supported by a blaze 
of beauty, the fiery vapour withers the sweetest 
blossoms, and communicates to all who hear her an 
involuntary dislike to those at whose merit she 
points her satire. 

At ev'ning thus the unsuspecting iwain, 
Returning homeward o'er a marshy plain, 
Pleas'd, at a distance sees the lambent light, 
And, hasty, follows the mischievous sprite, 
Through brakes and puddles, over hedge aad style, 
Rambles, misguided, many a weary mile. 
Confus'd, and wond'ring at the space he's gone, 
Doubts, then believes, and hurries faster on : 

14 



204 THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 

The cheat detected, when the vapour's spent, 
Scarce he's convinced, and hardly can repent* 

Next to these cautions with respect to raillery, 
which, if we examine strictly, we shall find no bet- 
ter than a well-bred phrase for speaking ill of folks, 
it may not he amiss to warn our readers of a certain 
vehemence exceedingly shocking to others, at the 
same time that it not a little exhausts themselves. 

If we trace this error to its source, we shall find 
that the spring of it is an impatience at finding 
others differ from us in opinion. And can there be 
any thing more unreasonable than to blame that 
disposition in them which we cherish in ourselves. 

It submission be a thing so disagreeable to us, 
why should we expect it from them ? Truth can 
only justify tenaciousness in opinion. Let us calm' 
ly lay down what convinces us ; and, if it is reason- 
able, it will hardly fail persuading those to whom 
we speak. Heat begets heat ; and the clashing oi 
opinions seldom fails to strike out the fire of dissen- 
tion. 

As this is a foible more especially indecent in the 
fair sex, I think it will be highly necessary to offer 
another, and perhaps a more cogent argument, to 
their consideration. Passion is a prodigious enemy 
to beauty ; it ruffles the sweetest features, discolours 
the finest complexion, and, in a word, gives the air 
of a fury to the face of an angel. Far be it from 
me to lay restraints upon the ladies; but in dissua- 
ding them from this method of enforcing their sen- 
timents, I put them upon an easier way of effecting 
what they desire ; for what can be denied to beau- 
ty, when speaking with an air of satisfaction ? Corn- 
standing I consider conversation in this light, I 



THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 205 

plaoence docs all that vehemence would extort , as 
anger can alone abate the influence of her charms. 

Serene and mild we view the evening air, 
The pleading pieture of the smiling fair ; 
A thousand charms our several senses meet, 
Cooling the breeze with fragrant odours sweet. 
Eut sudden, if the sable clouds deform 
The azure sky, and threat the coming storm, 
Hasty we flee — ere yet the thunders roar, 
And dread what we so much admired before. 

To vehemence in discourse, let me join redun- 
dancy in it also ; a fault flowing rather from care- 
lessness than design, and which is more dangerous 
from its Demg more neglected. Passion, as I have 
hinteu, excites opposition ; ana mat very opposi- 
tion, to a man of tolerable sense, will be the strong- 
est reproof for his inadvertency ; whereas a person 
of loquacious disposition may often escape open 
censure from the respect due to his quality ; or from 
an apprehension in those with whom he converses, 
that a check would but increase the evil, and, like 
curbing a hard-mouthed horse, serve only to make 
him run the faster ; from whence the person in 
fault is often riveted in his error, by mistaking a si* 
lent contempt for profound attention. 

Perhaps this short description may set many of 
my readers right; which, whatever they may think 
of it, I assure them is of no small importance. 
Conversation is a sort of bank, in which all who 
compose it have their respective shares. The man, 
therefore, who attempts to engross it, trespasses 
upon the right of his companions ; and, whether 
they think fit to tell him so or no, will of conse- 
quence be regarded as no fair dealer. Notwith- 



206 THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 

standing I consider conversation in this light, I think 
it necessary to observe, that it differs from other co- 
partnerships in one very material point, which is 
this, that it is worse taken if a man pays in more than 
his proportion, than if he had not contributed his full 
quota, provided he be not too far deficient ; for the 
prevention of which, let us have Horace's caution 
continually in our eye. 

The indiscreet with blind aversion run 
lute one fault, where they another shun. 

It is the peculiar privilege of the fair, that speak- 
ing or silent they never offend. Who can be wea- 
ry of hearing the softest harmony ? or who, with- 
out pleasure, can behold beauty, when his atten- 
tion is not diverted from her charms bv listening to 
her words? 1 would have stopped here, but that my 
deference for the ladies obliges me to take notice, 
that some o[ their own sex, when past the noon oi 
life, or in their wane of power from some other rea- 
son, are apt to place an inclination of obliging their 
hearers amongst those topics of detraction, by 
which they would reduce the lustre of those stars 
that now gild the hemisphere where they once 
shone. 

From this cause only, I would advise the reign 
ing toasts, by an equality of behaviour, to avoid the 
censure of these ill-natured tattlers. 

3uch hapless fate attends the young and fair, 
Espos'd to open force and secret snare ; 
Pursu'd by men warsi with destructive fire 
Against their peace, while female frauds conspire 
Escap'd from those, in vain they hepe fir rest ; 
What fame's secure from an invidious jest? 
By flight the deer, no more of dogs afraid, 
Falls by a shot from some dark covert made : 



THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 207 

Se envious tongues their foul intention hide ; 
Wound though unseen, and kill ere they're descry'd. 

Of all the follies which men are apt to fall into, 
to the disturbance of others and lessening of them- 
selves, there is none more intolerable than continu- 
al egotism, and a perpetual inclination to self-pan- 
egyric. The mention of this weakness is sufficient 
to expose it ; since, I think, no man was ever pos- 
sessed of so warm an affection for his own person, 
as deliberately to assert that it and its concerns are 
proper topics to entertain company. Yet there are 
many who, through want of attention, fall into this 
vein, as soon as the conversation begins to acquire 
life ; they lay hold of every opportunity of introdu- 
cing themselves, of describing themselves, and, if 
peoplte are so dull as not to take the hint, of com- 
mending themselves ; nay, what is more surprising 
than all this, they are amazed at the coldness of 
their auditor, forgetting that the same passion in- 
spires almost every body ; and that there is scarce 
a man in the room who has not a better opinion of 
himself than of any body else. 

Disquisitions of this sort into human nature be- 
long properly unto sages in Polite Philosophy; for 
the first principle of true politeness is not to offend 
against such dispositions of the mind as are almost 
inseparable from our species. To find out an*d me- 
thodize these requires no small labour and applica- 
tion. The fruits of my researches on this subject, 
I communicate freely to the public ; but must, at 
the same time, exhort my readers to spare now and 
then a few minutes to such reflections ; which will 
at least be attended with this good consequence, 



208 THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 

that it will open a scene which hath novelty (that 
powerful charm) to recommend it. 

But I must beware of growing serious again — I 
am afraid my gravity may have disobliged some of 
the beau monde already. 

He who intends t'adviie the young and gay, 
Must quit the common road — the formal way 
Which hum-drum pedauts take to make folk* wise 
By praisiug virtue and despising vice. 
Let persons tell what dreadful ills will fall 
On such as listen when their passions call: 
We, from such things our pupils to affright, 
Say not they're »ins, but that they're unpolite. 
To show their courage, beaux would often dare, 
By blackest crimes, to brave old Lucifer : 
But who, of breeding nice, of carriage civil, 
Would trespass on good manners for the devil ? 
Or, merely to display his want of fear, 
Be damn'd hereafter to be laugh'd at here ? 

It cannot be expected from me that I should par- 
ticularly criticise on all the foibles through which 
men are offensive to others in their behaviour; per- 
haps, too, a detail of this kind, however exact, 
might be thought tedious ; it may be construed into 
a breach of those rules, for a strict observance of 
which I contend. In order, therefore, to diversify 
a subject which can be no other way treated agree- 
ably, permit me to throw together a set of charac- 
ters I once bad the opportunity of seeing, who will 
afford a just picture of these Marplots in conversa- 
tion, and which my readers, if they please, may 
catt the Assembly of Impertinents. 

There was once a coffee-house in that end of the 
town where I lodged some time ago, at which seve- 
ral gentlemen used to meet of an evening, who from 



THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. £09 

* nappy correspondence in their humours and ca- 
pacities, entertained one another agreeably from the 
close of the afternoon till it was time to go to bed. 

About six months this society subsisted with great 
regularity, though without any restraint. Every 
gentleman who had frequented the house, and con- 
versed with the rectors of this occasional club, were 
invited to pass an evening, when they thought fit, in 
a room one pair of stairs, set apart for that purpose. 

The report of this meeting drew, one night when 
! had the honour of being there, three gentlemen of 
distinction, who were so well known to most of the 
members, that admittance could not be refused 
them. One of them, whom I choose to call Major 
Ramble, turned of three-score, and who had an ex- 
cellent education, seized the discourse about an 
hour before supper, and gave us a very copious ac- 
count of the remarks he had made in three years' 
travels through Italy. He began with a geographi- 
cal description of the dominions of his Sardinian 
Majesty as Duke of Savoy ; and, after a digression 
on the fortifications of Turin, in speaking of which 
he showed himself a perfect engineer, he proceeded 
to the secret history of the match with Portugal, to 
the abdication of King Victor Amadeus. After 
this he ran over the general history of Milan, Par- 
ma, and Modena ; dwelt half an hour on the ad- 
ventures of the late Duke of Mantua ; gave us a 
hasty sketch of the court of Rome ; transferred him- 
self from thence to the kingdom of Naples ; repea-t- 
.ed the insurrection of Massanido ; and at a quar- 
ter before ten, finished Jiis observations with the re- 
cital of what happened at the reduction of that 
.kingdom to the obedience of the present Emperors. 
What contributed to make this conduct of iiis the 



210 THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 

more out of the way was, that every gentleman m 
the room had been in Ttaly as well as he; and o\\e 
of them, who was a merchant, was the very persoa 
at whose house the Major resided when at Naples. 
Possibly he might imagine, the knowledge he had 
in those things might give them a great relish for his 
animadversions; or, to speak more candidly, the 
desire of displaying, bis own parts buried every 
other circumstance in oblivion. — Just as the Majoi 
had done speaking, a gentleman called for a glass of 
water, and happened to say, after drinking it, that 
he found his constitution much amended, since he 
left off malt-liquour. Doctor Hectic, another of the 
strangers, immediately laid hold of this opportunity, 
and gave us a large account of the virtue of water; 
confirming whatever be advanced from the work? 
of the most eminent physicians. From the main 
subject, he made an easy transition to medicinal 
baths and springs. Nor were his researches bound- 
ed by our own country ; he condescended to ac- 
quaint us with the properties of the springs of Bour- 
bon ; particularized the genuine smell of Spa wa- 
ter ; applauded the wonderful effects of Piermont 
mineral : and, like a true patriot, wound up his dis- 
quisitions with preferring Astrop wells (within three 
miles of which he was born) to them all. It was 
now turned of eleven ; when the Major and Doctor 
took their leaves, and went away together in a 
hackney-coach. 

The company seemed inclinable to extend their 
usual time of sitting, in order to divert themselves 
after their nighf s fatigue. When Mr. Paphilio, the 
third new comer, after two or three severe reflec- 
tion! on the oddity of some peopled humours, who* 
were for imposing their own idle conceits as tJuing&L 



THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 211 

worthy the attention of a whole company ; though 
at the same time, their subjects are trivial, and their 
manner of treating them insipid ; * for my part,' 
continued he, ' gentlemen, most people do me the 
honour to say, that few people understand medais 
better than I do. To put the musty stories of these 
queer old men out of our heads, I'll give you the his- 
tory of a valuable medallion, which was sent me 
about three weeks ago from Venice.' Without stay- 
ing- for any further remark of approbation than si- 
lence, he entered immediately on a long disserta- 
tion ; in which he had scarcely proceeded ten min- 
utes before his auditors, losing all patience, follow- 
ed the example of an old Turkey merchant, who, 
taking up his hat and gloves, went directly down 
stairs, without saying a word 

Animadversions on what I have related* would 
but trespass on the patience of my reader ; where- 
fore, in place of them, let me offer a few remarks 
in verse ; where my genius may be more at liberty, 
and vivacity atone for want of method. 

Who would not choose to shun ths gen'ral scorn 

And fly contempt a thing so hardly borne ? 

This to avoid let not your tales be long, 

The endless speaker's ever in the wrong 
All, all abhor intemperance of tongue. 
Though with a fluency of easy sound, 
Your copious speech with every grace abound ; 
Though wit adorn, and judgment give it weigbt, 
Discretion must your vanity abate, 
Ere your tir'd hearers put impatience on, 
And wonder when the larum will be done. 
Nor think by art attention can be wrought j 
A flux of words will ever be a fault, 
Things without limit we by nature blame: 
And aooa are eloy'd with pleasure ©i the sasaft 
K 



212 THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER 

Hitherto we have dwelt only on the blemishes of 
conversation, in order to prevent our readers com- 
mitting such offences as absolutely to destroy all 
pretences to politeness. But a man cannot be said 
to discharge the duty he owes to society who con- 
tents himself with barely doing nothing amiss: so 
lectures on polite philosophy, after removing these 
obstacles, may reasonably be expected to find cut 
the reason whereby true politeness may be obtain- 
ed. But, alas ! that is not to be done by words: 
rocks and tempests are easily painted ; but the rays 
of Phoebus defy the pencil. 

Methinks I see my auditors in surprise. What! 
say they — have we attended so long in vain ? have 
we attended to no purpose? Must we content our- 
selves with knowing how necessary a thing polite- 
ness is, without being able to acquire it? — Why, 
really, gentlemen, it is just so. 1 have done all for 
you that is in my power ; I have shown you what 
you are not to be ; in a word, I have explained po- 
liteness negatively. If you would know it positive- 
ly, you must seek it from company and observa- 
tion. However, to show my own good-breeding, 1 
will be your humble servant as far as I can ; that 
is, I will open the door for you, and introduce you, 
leaving you then at the single point where I can be 
of no further use, id est, application. 

The world is a great school, where men are first 
to learn, and then to practise. As fundamentals in 
all sciences ought to be well understood, so a man 
cannot be too attentive art his first becoming ac- 
quainted with the public : for experience is a ne- 
cessary qualification in every distinguished charac- 
ter, and is as much required in a fine gentleman as 
ia a statesman. — Yet it is to be remarked, that ex- 



THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 213 

perience is much sooner acquired by some than 
others ; for it does not consist so much in a copious 
remembrance of whatever has happened, as in a 
regular attention of what may be useful ; as a man 
is properly styled learned from his making a just 
use of reading, and not from his having perused a 
multitude of books 

As soon as we have gained knowledge, we shall 
find the best way to improve it will be exercise ; in 
which, two things are to be carefully avoided, po- 
sitiveness and affectation. If, to our care in shun- 
ning them, we add a desire of obliging those with 
whom we converse, there is little danger but that 
we become all we wish ; and politeness, by an im- 
perceptible gradation, will enter into our minutest 
actions, and give a polish to everv thing we do. 

Near to the far-extended coasts of Spain, 
Some islands triumph o'er the raging main, 

Where dwelt of old as tuneful poets say 

Slingers, who bore from all the prize away. 

While infants yet their feeble nerves they 

Nor needful food, till won by art, supplied : 

Fix'd was the mark the youngster, oft in vain, 

Whirl'd ihe misguided stone with fruitless pain ; 
Till, by long practice, to perfection brought, 
With easy slight their former task they wrought. 
Swift from their arm th ? unerring pebble flew, 
And, high in air, the fluttering victim slew. 
So in each art men rise by just degrees, 
And months of labour lead to years of ease 

The Duke de Rochefoucalt, who was esteemed 
the most brilliant wit in France, speaking of po- 
liteness, says, That a citizen will hardly acquire it 
at court, and yet may easily attain it in the camp. 
I shall not enter into the reason of this : but offer 



214 THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 

my readers a shoiter, pleasanter, and more effect- 
ual method of arriving at the summit of genteel be- 
haviour, that is, by conversing with the ladies. 

Those who aim at panegyric, are wont to assem- 
ble a throng of glittering ideas, and then, with great 
exactness, clothe them with all the elegance of lan- 
guage, in order to their making the most magnifi- 
cent figure when they come abroad in the world. 
So copious a subject as the praises of the fair, may 
in the opinion of my readers, lay me under great 
difficulties in this respect. Every man of good un- 
derstanding and fine sense, is in pain for one who 
has undertaken so hard a task. — Hard indeed to 
me, who, from many years study of the sex, have 
discovered so many perfections in them, as scarce 
as many more years would afford me time to ex- 
press. However, not to disappoint my readers, or 
myself, by foregoing that pleasure I feel in doing 
justice to the most amiable part of the creation, 1 
will indulge the natural propensity I have to their 
service ; and paint, though it be but in miniature, 
the excellencies they possess, and the accomplish- 
ments which by reflection they bestow. 

As when some poet, happy in the choice 
Of an important subject, tones his voice 
To sweeter sounds and more exalted strains, 
Which from a strong reflection he attains — 
As Homer, while his heroes he records, 
Transfuses all their fire into his woTds ; 
So we, intent, the charming sex to please, 
Act with new life and an unwonted ease ; 
Beyond the limits of our genius soar, 
And feel an ardour quite unknown before. 

Those who, from wrong ideas of things, have 
forced themselves into a dislike of the sex, would 



THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 215 

be apt to cry out, Where would this fellow run ? 
Has he so long studied women, and does he not 
know what numbers of affected prudes, gay co- 
quettes, and giddy impertinents, there are amongst 
them ! — Alas! gentlemen, what mistakes are tliese ? 
How will you be surprised, if I prove to you that 
you are in the same sentiments with me ; and that 
you could not have so warm resentments at these 
peccadilloes if you did not think the ladies more 
than mortal ? 

Are the faults you would pass by in a friend, 
and smile at in an enemy, crimes of so deep a dye 
in them as not to be forgiven ? And can this flow 
from any other principle than a persuasion that 
they are more perfect in their nature than we, and 
their guilt the greater, therefore, in departing even 
in the smallest degree, from that perfection ? Or 
can there be a greater honour to the sex than this 
dignity, which even their enemies allow them, to 
say, truth, virtue, and women, owe less to their 
friends than to their foes ! Since the vicious, in both 
cases, charge their own want of taste on the weak- 
nesses of human nature ; pursue grosser pleasures, 
because they are at hand, and neglect the more re- 
fined, as things of which their capacities afford them 
no ideas. 

Born with a servile gust to -sensual joy, 

Souls of low taste the sacred flame destroy 

By which, allied to the ethereal fire, 

Celestial views the hero's thoughts inspire ; 

Teach him in a snblirner path to move, 

And urge him on to glory and to love : 

Passions which only give a right to fame, 

To present bliss, and to a deathless name. 

While those mean wretches, with just shame o'erspread, 

Live on unknown— and are, unheard of. dead. 



216 THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 

Mr. Dryden, who knew human nature perhaps 
as well as any man that eve. y studied it, has given 
us a just picture of the force of female charms in 
the story of Cymon and Iphigenia. Boccace, from 
whom he took it, had adorned it with all the tinsel 
of finery an Italian composition is capable of. The 
English poet, like most English travellers, gave ster- 
ling silver in exchange for that superficial gilding ; 
and bestowed a moral where he found a tale. He 
paints, in Cymon, a soul buried in a confusion of 
ideas, inflamed with so little fire, as scarce to strug- 
gle under the load, or afford any glimmerings of 
sense. In this condition, he represents him struck 
with the rays of Iphigenia's beauty. Kindled by 
them, his mind exerts its power, his intellectual fa- 
culties seem to awake ; and that uncouth ferocity 
of manners by which he had hitherto been distin- 
guished, gave way to an obliging behaviour, the na- 
tural effect of love. 

The moral of this fable is a truth which can never 
be inculcated too much. It is to the fair sex wo 
owe the most shining qualities of which ours is 
master ; as the ancients insinuated, with their usual 
address, by painting both the virtues and graces as 
females. Men of true taste feel a natural com- 
plaisance for women whom they converse with, 
and fall, without knowing it, upon every art of 
pleasing ; which is the disposition at once the most 
graceful to others, and the most satisfactory to our- 
selves. An intimate acquaintance with the other 
sex, fixes this complaisance into a habit ; and that 
habit is the very essence of politeness. 

Nay, I presume to say politeness can be no other 
way attained. Books may furnish us with the right 
ideas; experience may improve our judgments: 



THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. £1| 

but it is the acquaintance of the ladies only which 
can bestow that easiness of address, whereby the 
fine gentleman is distinguished from the scholar and 
tlve man of business. 

That my readers may be perfectly satisfied in a 
point which 1 think of so great importance, let us 
examine this a little more strictly. 

There is a certain constitutional pride in men, 
which hinders them from yielding in point of know- 
ledge, honour, virtue, to one another. This imme- 
diately forsakes us at the sight of a woman. And 
the being accustomed to submit to the ladies, gives 
a new turn to our ideas, and opens a path to rea- 
son, which she had not trod before. Things ap- 
pear in another light ; and that degree of complai- 
sance seems now a virtue, which heretofore we re- 
garded as a meanness. 

I have dwelt the longer on the charms of the sex, 
arising from the perfection visible in their exterior 
composition; because there is the strongest analogy 
between them, and the excellencies which, from a 
nicer inquiry, we discover in the minds of the fair. 
As they are distinguished from the robust make of 
man, by that delicacy expressed by nature in their 
form ; so the severity of masculine sense is softened 
by a sweetness peculiar to the female soul. A 
native capacity of pleasing attends them through 
every circumstance of life ; and what we improper- 
ly call the weakness of the sex, gives them a su- 
periority unattainable by force. 

The fable of the north wind and the sun contend- 
ing to make the man throw of? his cloak, is not an 
improper picture of the specific difference between 
the powers of either sex. The blustering fierce- 



218 THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 

ness of the former, instead of producing the effect 
at which it aimed, made the fellow but wrap up the 
closer ; yet no sooner did the sun-beams play, than 
that which before protected, became now an in- 
cumbrance. 

Just so, that pride which makes us tenacious in 
disputes between man and man, when applied to 
the ladies, inspires us with an eagerness not to con- 
tend, but to obey. 

To speak sincerely and philosophically, women 
seem designed by Providence to spread the same 
splendour and cheerfulness through the intellectual 
economy, that the celestial bodies diffuse over the 
material part of the creation. Without them, we 
might indeed contend, destroy, and triumph over 
one another. Fraud and force would divide the 
world between them ; and we should pass our lives 
like slaves, in continual toil, without the prospect 
of pleasure or relaxation. 

It is the conversation of women that gives a pro- 
per bias to our inclinations, and by abating the fe- 
rocity of our passions, engages us to that gentle- 
ness of deportment which we style humanity. The 
tenderness we have for them softens the ruggedness 
of our own nature ; and the virtues we put on to 
make the better figure in their eyes, keep us in hu- 
mour with ourselves. 

I speak it without affectation or vanity, that no 
man has applied more assiduously than myself to 
the study of the fair sex ; and I aver it with the 
greatest simplicity of heart, that I have not only 
found the most engaging and most amiable, but al- 
so the most generous and most heroic qualities 
amongst the ladies: and that I have discovered 



THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER, 219 

more of candour, disinterestedness, and fervour, 
in their friendship, than in those of our own sex, 
though I have been very careful and particularly 
happy in the choice of acquaintance. 

My readers will, I dare say, observe, and indeed 
I desire they should, a more than ordinary zeal for 
inculcating a high esteem of, and a sincere attach- 
ment to, the fair. What I propose from it is, to 
rectify certain notions, which are not only destruc- 
tive of all politeness, but at the same time detri- 
mental to society, and incompatible with the digni- 
ty of human nature. These have, of late years, 
spread much among those who assume to them- 
selves the title of fine gentlemen ; and in conse- 
quence thereof, talk with great freedom of those 
from whom they are in no danger of being called 
to an account. There is so much of baseness, cow- 
ardice, and contempt of truth, in this way of treat- 
ing those who are alone capable ot making us truly 
and rationally happy , # that to consider the crime, 
must be sufficient to make a reasonable man abhor 
it. Levity is the best excuse for a transient slip of 
this kind ; but to persist in it, is evidently descend- 
ing frcm our own species, and, as far as we ar« 
able, putting on the brute. 

FrarrTd to give joy, the lovely sex are seen; 
Beauteous their form, and heavenly in their mien. 
Silent, they charm the pleased beholder's sight ; 
And speaking, strike us with a new delight : 
Words, when pronounc'd by them, bear each a dart, 
Invade our ears, and wound us to the heart 
To no ill ends the glorious passion sways : 
By love and honour bound, the youth obeys ; 
Till by his service won, the grateful fair 
Consents, in time, to ease the lover's care ; 
15 K2 



220 THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER 

Seals all his hopes ; and in the bridal kiss, 
Gives him a title to untainted bliss. 

I choose to put an end to my lecture on polite- 
ness here, because having spoke of the ladies, I 
would not descend again to any other subject. In 
the current of my discourse, I have taken pains to 
show the use and amiableness of that art which this 
treatise was written to recommend ; and have 
drawn, in as strong colours as I was able, those so- 
lecisms in behaviour, which men, either through 
giddiness or a wrong turn of thought, are most like- 
ly to commit. 

Perhaps the grave may think I have made po- 
liteness too important a thing, from the manner in 
which I have treated it : yet if they will but reflect, 
that a statesman in the most august assembly, a 
lawyer of the deepest talents, and a divine of the 
greatest parts, must, notwithstanding, have a large 
share of politeness, in order to engage the attention 
and bias the inclination of his hearers, before he 
can persuade them ; — they will be of another opin- 
ion, and confess, that some care is due to acquiring 
that quality which must set off all the rest. 

The gayer part of my readers may probably find 
fault with those restraints which may result from 
the rules I have here laid down. But I would have 
these gentlemen remember, that I point out a way 
whereby, without the trouble of study, they may be 
enabled to make no despicable figure in the world ; 
which, on mature deliberation, I flatter myself they 
will think no ill exchange. The ladies will, I hope, 
repay my labours, by not being displeased with 
this offer of my service ; and thus having done all 



THE POLITE PHILOSOPHER. 221 

in my power towards making folks agreeable to one 
another, I please me with the hopes of having pro- 
cured a favourable reception for myself. 

When gay Patronius, to correct the age 1 

Gave way, of old, to his satyric rage; 

The motley form he for his writings chose, 

And chequer'd lighter verse with graver prose. 

When with just malice, he desig'nd to show 

How far unbounded vice at last would go; 

In prose we read the execrable tale, 

And see the face of sin without a veil. 

But when his soul, by some soft theme inspir'd. 

The aid of tuneful poetry requir'd, 

His numbers with peculiar sweetness ran. 

And in his easy verse we see the man : 

Learn'd without pride ; of taste correct — ?*& *ree 

Alike from niceness and from pedantry , 

Careless of wealth, yet liking decent show ; 

In fine, by birth a wit, by trade a beau. 

Freely he censur'd a licentious age. 

And him I copy, though with chaster page ; 

Expose the evils in which brutes delight, 

And show how easy 'tis to be polite ; 

Exhort our erring youth — to mend in time, 

And lectures give, for memory's sake, in rhyme, 

Teaching this art to pass through life at ease, 

Pleas'd in ourselves, wniie all around we pleas*. 



ADVICE TO YOUTH. 

SELECTED FROM THE WORKS 

OF 

HUGH BLAIR, D. D, 



The necessity of forming religious principles at an 
early age. 

As soon as you are capable of reflection, you 
must perceive that there is a right and a wrong in 
human actions. You see, that those who are born 
with the same advantages of fortune, are not all 
equally prosperous in the course of life. While 
some of them, by wise and steady conduct, attain 
distinction in the world, and pass their days with 
comfort and honour; others of the sam«e rank, by 
mean and vicious behaviour, forfeit the advantages 
of their birth, involve themselves in much misery, 
and end in being a disgrace to their friends, and a 
burden on society. Early, then, you may learn, 
that it is not in the external condition in which you 
find yourselves placed, but on the part wiiich you 
are to act, that your welfare and unhappmess, your 
honour or infamy, depend. Now, when beginning 
to act that part, what can be of greater moment, 
than to regulate your plan of conduct with the most 
serious attention, before you have yet committed 
any fatal or irretrievable errors? If, instead of ex- 
erting reflection for this valuable purpose, you deli- 



ADVICE TO YOUTH. 223 

ver yourself up,- at so critical a time, to sloth and 
pleasure ; if you refuse to listen to any counsellor 
but humour, or to attend to any pursuit except that 
of amusement : if you allow yourselves to float 
loose and careless on the tide of life, ready to re- 
ceive any direction which the current of fashion 
may chance to give you ; what can you expect 
to follow from such beginnings ? While so many 
around you are undergoing the sad consequences 
of alike indiscretion, for what reason shall not these 
consequences extend to you ? Shall you only at- 
tain success without that preparation, and escape 
dangers without that precaution, which is required 
of others ? Shall happiness grow up to you of its 
own accord, and solicit your acceptance, when, to 
the rest of mankind, it is the fruit of long cultivation, 
and the acquisition of labour and care ? — Deceive 
not. yourselves with such arrogant hopes. What- 
ever be your rank, Providence will not, for your 
sake, reverse its established order. By listening to 
wise admonitions, and tempering the vivacity of 
youth with a proper mixture of serious thought, you 
may ensure cheerfulness for the rest of your life ; 
but, by delivering yourselves up at present to giddi- 
ness and levity, you lay the foundation of lasting 
heaviness of heart. 

The acquisition of virtuous dispositions and habits 
a necessary part of education. 

When you look forward to those plans of life, 
which either your circumstances have suggested, or 
your friends have jwroposed, you will not hesitate to 
acknowledge, that in order to pursue them with ad- 
vantage, some previous discipline is requisite. Be 



£24 ADVICE TO YOUTH. 

assured, that whatever is to be your profession, no 
education is more necessary to your success, than 
the acquirement of virtuous dispositions and habits 
This is the universal preparation for every charac 
ter, and every station of life. Bad as the world is, 
respect is always paid to virtue. In the usual 
course of human affairs it will be found, that a 
plain understanding, joined with acknowledged 
worth, contributes more to prosperity, than the 
brightest parts without probity or honour, Whether 
science, or business, or public life, be your aim, vir- 
tue still enters, for a principal share, into all those 
great departments of society. It is connected with 
eminence, in every liberal art ; with reputation, in 
every branch of fair and useful business ; with dis- 
tinction, in every public station. The vigour which 
it gives the mind, and the weight which it adds 
to character ; the generous sentiments which it 
breathes ; the undaunted spirit which it inspires ; 
the ardour of diligence which it quickens ; the free- 
dom which it procures from pernicious and disho- 
nourable avocations : are the foundations of all that 
is high in fame, or great in success, among men. 
Whatever ornamental or engaging endowments you 
now possess, virtue is a necessary requisite, in order 
to their shining with proper lustre. Feeble are the 
attractions of the fairest form, if it be suspected that 
nothing within corresponds to the pleasing appear- 
ance without. Short are the triumphs of wit, when 
it is supposed to be the vehicle of malice. By what- 
ever arts you may first attract the attention, you 
can hold the esteem, and secure the hearts of 
others, only by amiable dispositions, and the ac- 
complishments of the mind. These are qualities 
whose influence will last, when the lustre of all 
that once sparkled and dazzled has passed away. 



ADVICE TO YOUTH. 225 

Ptoiy to God ihe foundation of good morals. 

Piety to God is the first thing to be recommended, 
as the foundation of good morals, and a disposition 
particularly graceful and becoming in youth. To 
be void of it, argues a cold heart, destitute of some 
of the best affections which belong to that age. 
Youth is the season of warm and generous emo- 
tions. The heart should then spontaneously rise 
into admiration of what is great; glow with the 
Jove of what is fair and excellent ; and melt at the 
discovery of tenderness and goodness. — Where can 
tny object be found so proper to kindle those affec- 
vons, as the Father -of the Universe, and the Author 
>f all felicity ? Unmoved by veneration, can you 
'cntemptate that grandeur and majesty whieh his 
.o-orks every where display ? Untouched by grati- 
tude, can you view that profusion of good, which 
k\ this pkasing season of life, his beneficent hand 
paurs aroand you. Happy in the love and affec- 
tion of those with whom you are connected, look 
np to the Supreme Being, as the inspirer of all the 
friendship which has ever been shewn you by -others; 
himself your best and your first friend ; formerly, 
the supporter of your infancy, and the guide of 
your childhood; now, the guardian of your youth 
and the hope of your coming years. View religious 
homage, as a natural expression of gratitude Von im 
for all his goodness. Consider it as the service of 
she God of your fathers ; of him, to whom your fa- 
thers devoted you, of him whom in former ages 
your ancestors honoured ; and by whom they are 
nov<- vewasdedtmd blessed in heaven. Connected 
-v/hh so many tender --end^Iities of soul, let reli- 
gion he. wk'i v.o.-, r ' -md barren offspring 



226* ADVICE TO YOUTH. 

of speculation, but the warm and vigorous dictate 
of the heart. 

The happiness and dignity of manhood depend up- 
on the conduct of the youthful age. 

Let not the season of youth be barren of improve* 
merits, which are essential to your felicity and ho- 
nour. Your character is now of your awn form- 
ing ; your fate is, in some measure, put into your 
nvn hands. Y~our nature is as yet pliant and soft 
Habits have not established their dominion. Pre- 
judices have not pre-occupied } 7 our understanding. 
The world has not had time to contract and debase 
your affections. AH your powers are more vigor- 
ous, disembarrassed, and free, than they will be at 
any future period. Whatever impulse you now 
give to your desires and passions, the direction is 
likely to continue. It will form the channel in? 
which your life is to run ; nay, it may determine 
an everlasting issue. Consider, then, the employ- 
ment of this important period, as the highest trust 
which shall ever be committed to you; as, in a 
great measure, decisive of your happiness, in time 
and in eternity. As in the succession of the sea- 
sons, each, by the invariable laws of nature, affects 
the production of what is next in course : so, in hu- 
man life, every period of our age, according as it is 
well or ill spent, influences the happiness of that 
which is to follow. Virtuous youth gradually brings 
forward accomplished and flourishing manhood; 
and such manhood passes of itself without uneasi- 
ness, into respectable and tranquil old age. But 
when nature is turned out of its regular course, dis- 
order takes place in the moral, just as in the vege- 



ADVICE TO \Ot TIL 227 

table world. If the spring put forth no blossoms, 
in summer there will be no beauty, and in autumn 
no fruit ; so, if youth be trifled away without im- 
provement, manhood will be contemptible, and old 
age miserable. 

On the due regulation of pleasure. 

Though religion condemns such pleasures as are 
immoral, it is chargeable with no improper austeri- 
ty in respect of those which are innocent. By the 
cautious discipline which that prescribes, think not 
that it excludes you from all gay enjoyment of life. 
Within the compass of that sedate spirit to which 
it forms you, all that is innocently pleasing will be 
found to lie. It is a mistake to imagine, that in con- 
stant effusions of giddy mirth, or in that flutter of 
spirits which is excited by a round of diversions, 
the chief enjoyment of our state consists. Were 
this the case, the vain and frivolous would be on 
better terms for happiness, than the wise, the great, 
and the good. To arrange the plans of amuse- 
ment, or to preside in the haunts of jollity, would 
be more desirable, than to exert the highest effort of 
mental powers for the benefit of nations. A conse- 
quence so absurd, is sufficient to explode the princi- 
ple from which it flows. To the amusements and 
lesser joys of the world, religion assigns their pro- 
per place. It admits of them, as relaxations from 
care, as instruments of promoting the union of men, 
and of enlivening their social intercourse. But 
though it does not censure or condemn them, as 
long as they are kept within due bounds; neither 
does it propose them as rewards to the virtuous, or 
as the principal objects of their pursuit. To such 



228 ADVICE TO YOUTH. 

it points out nobler ends of action. Their felicity 
it engages them to seek in the discharge of an use- 
ful, and upright, and honourable part in life ; and, 
as the habitual tenor of their mind, it promotes 
cheerfulness, and discourages levity. Between these 
two there is a wide distinction ; and the mind which 
is most open to levity, is frequently a stranger to 
cheerfulness. Transports of intemperate mirth are 
often no more than flashes from the dark cloud ; 
and in proportion to the violence of the effulgence 
is the succeeding gloom. Levity may be the forced 
production of folly or vice; cheerfulness is the na- 
tural offspring of wisdom and virtue only. The 
one is an occasional agitation ; the other a perma- 
nent habit. The one degrades the character ; the 
other is perfectly consistent with the dignity of rea- 
son, and the steady and manly spirit of religion. 
^To aim at a constant succession of high and vivid 
sensations of pleasure, is an idea of happiness alto- 
gether chimerical. Calm and temperate enjoyment 
is the utmost that is allotted to man. Beyond this, 
we struggle in vain to raise our state ; and, in fact, 
depress our joys by endeavouring to heighten them. 
Instead of those fallacious hopes of perpetual festi- 
vity, with which the world would allure us, religion 
confers upon us a cheerful tranquility. Instead of 
dazzling us with meteors of joy which sparkle and 
expire, it sheds around us a calm and steady light. 
Let us, then, show the world, that a religious tem- 
per, is a temper sedate, but not sad ; that a religious 
behaviour, is a behaviour, regulated, but not stiff 
and formal. Thus we sha'U pass through the vari- 
ous changes of the world, with the least discompo- 
sure; and we shall vindicate religion from the re- 
proaches of those who would attribute to it either 



ADVICE TO YOUTH. 229 

enthusiastic joys, or slavish terrors. We shall 
show, that it is a rational rule of life, worthy of the 
perfection of God, and suited to the nature and 
state of man. 

Modesty and docility to be joined to piety. 

To piety join modesty and docility, reverence of 
your parents, and submission to those who are your 
superiors in knowledge, m station, and m years. 
Dependence and obedience belong to youth. Mo- 
desty is one of its chief ornaments; and has ever 
been esteemed a presage of rising merit. When 
entering on the career of life, it is your part, not to 
assume the reins as yet into your hands; but to 
commit yourself to the guidance of the more expe- 
rienced, and to become wise by the wisdom of those 
who have gone before you. Of all the follies inci- 
dent to youth, there are none which either deform 
its present appearance, or blast the prospect of fu- 
ture prosperity, more than self-conceit, presump 
tion, and obstinacy. By checking its natural pro 
gress in improvement, they fix it in long immaturi- 
ty ; and frequently produce mischiefs which can 
never be repaired. Yet these are vices too common 
among the young. Big with enterprise, and elated 
by hope, they resolve to trust for success to none 
but themselves. Full of their own abilities, they 
deride the admonitions that are given them by their 
friends, as the timorous suggestions of age. Too 
wise to learn, too impatient to be restrained, they 
plunge, with precipitate indiscretion, into the midst 
of all the dangers with which this life abounds. 
Positive as you now are in your opinions, and con- 
fident in your assertions, be assured, that the time 
approaches when both n en and things will appear 



230 ADVICE TO YOUTH 

in a different light. Many characters which you 
now admire, will by and by sink in your esteem ; 
and many opinions, of which you are at present 
most tenacious, will alter as you advance in years. 
Distrust, therefore, that glare of youthful presump- 
tion which dazzles your eyes. Abound not in your 
own sense. Put not yourselves forward with too 
much eagerness ; nor imagine, that by the impetu- 
osity of juvenile ardour, you can overturn systems 
which have been long established, and change the 
face of the world. By patient and gradual progres- 
sion in improvement, you may, in due time, com- 
mand lasting esteem. But by assuming at present 
a tone of superiority, to which you have no good 
title, you will disgust those whose approbation it is 
most important to gain. Forward vivacity may fit 
you to be the companion of an idle hour ; but more 
solid qualities must Lecommend you to the wise, 
and mark you out for importance and considera- 
tion in subsequent life. 

Sincerity and truth recommended. 

It is necessary to recommend to you sincerity and 
truth. This is the basis of every virtue. That dark- 
ness of character, where we can see no heart ; 
those foldings of art, through which no native affec- 
tion is allowed to penetrate, present an object, un- 
amiable in every season of life, but particularly odi- 
ous in youth. If, at an age when the heart is 
warm, when the emotions are strong, and when na- 
ture is expected to show itself free and open, you 
can already smile and deceive ; what are we to 
look for, when you shall be long hackneyed in the 
ways of men ; when interest shall have completed 
the obduration of your heart, and when experience 



ADVICE TO YOUTH. 231 

shall have improved you in all the arts of guile ? 
Dissimulation in youth is the forerunner of perfidy 
in old age. Its first appearance is the fatal omen of 
future shame. It degrades parts and learning ; it 
obscures the lustre of every accomplishment; and 
it sinks you into contempt with God and man. A^ 
you value, therefore, the approbation of Heaven, 
or the esteem of the world, cultivate the love of 
truth. In all your proceedings, be direct and con- 
sistent. Ingenuity and candour possess the most 
powerful charm ; these bespeak universal favour ; 
they carry an apology for almost every failing. The 
path of truth is a plain and safe way ; that of false- 
hood, a perplexing maze. After your first depart- 
ure from sincerity, it is not in your power to stop : 
one artifice unavoidably leads on to another, till, 
as the intricacy of the labyrinth increases, you are 
left entangled in your own snare. Deceit discovers 
a little mind, which stops at temporary expedi- 
ents, without rising to comprehensive views of con- 
duct. It betrays, at the same time, a dastardly 
spirit. It is the resource of one who wants cou- 
rage to avow his designs, or to rest upon himself. 
But openness of character displays that generous 
boldness which ought to distinguish youth. To set 
out in the world with no other principle than a craf- 
ty attention to interest, betokens one who is desti- 
ned to creep through the inferior walks of life. To 
give an early preference to honour above gain, 
when they stand in competition — to despise every 
advantage which cannot be attained without dis- 
honest arts — to brook no meanness, and to stoop to 
no dissimulation — are the indications of a great 
mind, the presages of future eminence and distinc- 
tion in life. At the same time, this virtuous since- 



232 ADVICE TO YOUTH. 

rity is perfectly consistent with the most prudent 
vigilance and caution. It is opposed to cunning, 
not to true wisdom. It is not the simplicity of a 
weak and improvident, but the candour of an en- 
larged and noble mind : it is the mark of one who 
scorns deceit, because he accounts it both base and 
unprofitable : of one who seeks no disguise, because 
he needs none to hide him. 

Benevolence and humanity. 

Youth is the proper season of cultivating the be- 
nevolent and humane affections. As a great part 
of your happiness is to depend on the connexions 
which you form with others, it is of high importance 
that you acquire betimes the temper and the man- 
ners which will render such connexions comfort- 
able. Let a sense of justice be the foundation of 
all your social qualities. In your most early inter- 
course with the world, and even in your youthful 
amusements, let no unfairness be found. Engrave 
on your mind that sacred rule, of * Doing all things 
to others, according as you wish that they should 
do unto you.' For this end, impress yourself with 
a deep sense of the original and natural equality of 
men. Whatever advantages of birth or fortune 
you possess, never display them, with an ostenta- 
tious superiority. Leave the subordinations of 
rank, to regulate the intercourse of more advanced 
years. At present it becomes you to act among 
your companions, as man with man. Remember 
how unknown to you are the vicissitudes*of the 
world ; and how often they, on whom ignorant and 
contemptuous young men once looked down with 
scorn, ha*ve risen to be their superiors in future 



ADVICE TO YOUTH 233 

years. Compassion is an emotion of which you 
ought never to be ashamed. Graceful in youth is 
the tear of sympathy, and the heart that melts at 
the tale of wo. Let not ease and indulgence con- 
tract your affections, and wrap you up in selfish 
enjoyment. Accustom yourselves to think of the 
distress of human life ; of the solitary cottage, the 
dying parent, and the weeping orphan. Never 
sport with pain and distress in any of your amuse- 
ments; never treat even the meanest insect with 
wanton cruelty. 

Youthful friendships 

In young minds there is commonly a strong pro- 
pensity to particular intimacies and friendships. 
Youth, indeed, is the season when friendships are 
sometimes formed, which not only continue through 
succeeding life, but which glow to the last, with a 
tenderness unknown to the connexions begun in 
cooler years. This propensity, therefore, is not to 
be discouraged ; though at the same time it must 
be regulated with much circumspection and care. 
Too many of tiie pretended friendships of youth 
• are mere combinations in pleasure. They are oft- 
en founded on capricious likings- suddenly con- 
tracted, and as suddenly dissolved. Sometimes 
they are the effect of interested compliance and flat- 
tery on the one side, and of credulous fondness on 
the other. Beware of such rash and dangerous 
connexions, which may afterwards load you with 
shame and dishonour. Remember, that by the cha~ 
racter of those whom you choose for your friends, 
your own is likely to be formed^and will certainly 
be iudged of by the world. Be slow, therefore, 



234 ADVICE TO YOUTH. 

and cautious in contracting intimacy ; but when a 
virtuous friendship is once established, consider it 
as a sacred engagement. Expose not yourselves to 
the reproach of lightness and inconstancy, which 
always bespeak either a trifling or a base mind. 
Reveal none of the secrets of your friend. Be faith- 
ful to his interests. Forsake him not in danger. 
Abhor the thought of acquiring any advantage by 
his prejudice or hurt. 

Temperance in pleasure recommended. 

• Let me particularly exhort youth to temperance 
in pleasure. Let me admonish them to beware of 
that rock on which thousands, from race to race, 
continue to split. The love of pleasure, natural to 
man in every period of his life, glows at this age 
with excessive ardour. Novelty has fresh charms, 
as yet, to every gratification. The world appears 
to spread a continual feast ; and health, vigour, and 
high spirits, invite them to partake of it without re- 
straint. In vain we warn them of latent dangers. 
Religion is accused of insufferable severity in pro- 
hibiting enjoyment ; and the old, when they offer 
their admonitions, are upbraided with having for- 
got that they once were young. — And yet, my 
friends, to what do the restraints of religion, and 
the counsels of age, with respect to pleasure, 
amount? They may all be comprised in a few 
words — not to hurt yourselves, and not to hurt 
others, by your pursuit of pleasure. Within these 
r unds pleasure is lawful ; beyond them, it becomes 
' riminal : it is ruinous. Are these restraints any 
other than what a wise man would choose to im- 
pose on himself? We call you not to renounce 



ADVICE TO VGl'Tti. 235 

fsieasure, hue to enjoy it hi safety. Instead of 
abridging it, we exhort yon to pursue it en an ex- 
tensive plan. We propose measures for securing 
its possession, and for prolonging its duration. 

On the proper management of cur ftmu 

To be impressed with a just sense of the value 
of time, it is highly requisite that we should intro- 
duce order into its management Consider well, 
then, how much depends upon it, and how fast it 
dies away. The bulk of men are in nothing more 
capricious and inconsistent than in their apprecia- 
tion of time. When they think of it as the mea- 
sure of their continuance on earth, they highly prize 
it, and with the greatest anxiety seek to lengthen it 
out. But when they view it in separate parcels, 
they appear to hold it in contempt, and squander it 
with inconsiderable profusion. While they com- 
plain that life is short, they are often wishing its dif- 
ferent periods at an end. Covetous of every other 
jjossession, of time only they are prodigal. They 
allow every idle man to be master of this property, 
and make every frivolous occupation welcome that 
can help them to consume it. Among those who 
are so careless of time, it is not to be expected that 
order should be observed in its distribution. But 
by this fatal neglect, how many materials of severe 
and lasting regret are they laying up in store for 
themselves ! The time which they suffer to pass 
away in the midst of confusion, bitter repentance 
seeks afterwards in vain to recall. What was 
omitted to be done at its proper moment, arises to 
be the torment of some future season. Manhood 
is disgraced by the consequences of neglected youth. 
16 L 



23S ADVICE TO YOUTH. 

Old age, oppressed by eares that belonged to- a for- 
mer period, labours under a burden not its own. 
At the close of life, the dying man beholds with an 
guish that his days are finishing, when hisprepara 
tion for eternity is scarcely commenced. Such arc 
the effects of a disorderly waste of time, in not at- 
tending, to its value. Every thing in the life of such 
persons is misplaced. 

He, on the contrary, who is orderly in the distri- 
bution of his time, takes the proper method of es- 
caping those manifold evils. By proper manage- 
ment he prolongs it. He lives much in little space ; 
more in a few years than others do in many. He 
can live to God and his own soul, and at the same 
time attend to all the lawful interests of the present 
world. He looks back on the past, and provides 
for the future. He catches the hours as they fly. 
They are marked down for useful purposes, and 
their memory remains. But by the man of confu- 
sion those hours fleet like a shadow. His days and 
years are either blanks, of which he has no remem- 
brance, or they are filled up with a confused and ir- 
regular succession of unfinished transactions. He 
remembers indeed that he has been busy, yet he 
can give little account of the business which ha* 
employed him. 

The necessity of depending for success on the 
blessing of Heaven. 

Let me finish the subject, with recalling your at- 
tention to that dependance on the blessing of Hea- 
ven, which, amidst all your endeavours after im- 
provement, you ought continually to preserve. It 
is too common with the young, even when> they re- 



ADVICL TO YOUTH. 237 

solve to tread the path of virtue and honour, to set 
out with presumptuous confidence in themselves. 
Trusting to their own abilities for carrying them 
successfully through life, they are careless of apply- 
ing to God, or of deriving any assistance from what 
they are apt to reckon the gloomy discipline of re- 
ligion. Alas! how little do they know the dangers 
which await them. Neither human wisdom, nor 
human virtue, unsupported by religion, are equal 
to the trying situations which often occur in life. 
By the shock of temptation, how frequently have 
the most virtuous intentions been overthrown ? 
Under the pressure of disaster, how often has the 
greatest constancy sunk? Destitute of the favour 
of God, you are in no better situation, with all your 
boasted abilities, than orphans left to wander in 
a trackless desert, without any guide to conduct 
them, or any shelter to cover them from the gather- 
ing storm. Correct, then, this ill-founded arro- 
gance. Expect not, that your happiness can be 
independent of him who made you. By faith and 
repentance, apply to the Redeemer of the world. 
By piety and prayer seek the protection of the God 
of Heaven. 

The employment of time 

Redeeming your time from those dangerous 
wastes of it, which lead our youth into every dis- 
order and confusion in society, seek to fill it with 
employment which you may review with satisfac- 
tion. The acquisition of knowledge is one of the 
most honourable occupations of youth ! the desire 
of it discovers a liberal mind, and is connected 
with raanv accomplishments, and many virtues. 



238 ADVICE TO YOUTH 

But though your train of life should not le^in yon to 
study, a course of education always furnishes pro 
per employments to a well-disposed mind. What- 
ever you pursue, be emulous to excel. Generous 
ambition, and sensibility to praise, are, especially 
at your age, among the marks of virtue. Think 
not, that any affluence of fortune, or any elevation 
of rank, exempts you from the duties of application 
and industry. Industry is the law of our being; it 
is the demand of nature, of reason, and of God. 
Remember always, that the years which now pass 
over your heads, leave permanent memorials be- 
hind them. From your thoughtless minds they 
may escape ; but they remain in the remembrance 
of God. They form an important part of the regis- 
ter of your life. They will hereaiter bear testimo- 
ny, either for or against you, at that day when, for 
all your actions, but particularly for the employ- 
ment of youth, you must give an account to God. 
Whether your future course is destined to be long 
or short, after this manner it should commence; 
and if it continue to be thus conducted, its conclu- 
sion, at what time soever it arrives, will not be in- 
glorious or unhappy. 

Irregular pleasures. 

By the unhappy excesses of irregular pleasures 
in youth, how many amiable dispositions are cor- 
rupted or destroyed I How many rising capacities 
and powers are suppressed ! How many flattering 
hopes of parents and friends are totally extinguish- 
ed. Who but must drop a tear over human nature, 
when he behoids that morning, which rose so bright, 
overcast with such untimely darkness ; that good 



ADVICE TO YOUTH. 239 

humour, which once captivated all hearts, that vi- 
vacity which sparkled in every company, those 
abilities which were fitted for adorning the highest 
stations, all sacrificed ai the shrine of low sensuali- 
ty ; and one who was formed for running the fail 
career of life in the midst of public esteem, cut off 
by his vices at the beginning of his course, or sunk 
for the whole of it into insignificancy and con- 
tempt? — These, O sinful Pleasure, are thy tro- 
phies ! It is thus that co-operating with the foe of 
God and man, thou degradest human honour, and 
blasteth the opening prospect of human felicity. 

Industry and application. 

Diligence, industry, and proper improvement of 
time, are material duties of the young. To no pur- 
pose are they endowed with the best abilities, if 
they want activity for exerting them. Unavailing, 
in this case, will be every direction that can be giv- 
en them, either for their temporal or spiritual wel- 
fare. In youth, the habits of industry are most ea- 
sily acquired : in youth, the incentives to it are 
strongest, from ambition and from duty, from emu- 
lation and hope, from all the prospects which the 
beginning of life affords. If, dead to these calls, 
you already languish in slothful inaction, what will 
be able to quicken the more sluggish current of ad- 
vancing years ? Industry is not only the instru- 
ment of improvement, but the foundation of plea- 
sure. Nothing is so opposite to the true enjoyment 
of life, as the relaxed and feeble state of an indo- 
lent mind. He who is a stranger to industry, may 
possess, but he cannot enjoy. For it is labour on- 
ly which gives the relish to pleasure. It is the ap- 
pointed vehicle of every good to man. It is the in- 



240 ADVICE TO YOUTH. 

dispensable condition of our possessing a sound 
mind in a sound body. Sloth is so inconsistent with 
both, that it is hard to determine, whether k be a 
greater foe to virtue, 01 to health and happiness. 
Inactive as it is in itself, its effects are fatally pow- 
erful. Though it appear a slowly-flowing stream, 
yet it undermines all that is stable and flourishing. 
it not only saps the foundation of every virtue, out 
pours upon you a deluge of crimes and evils. It ii 
like water, which first purifies by stagnation, and 
then sends up noxious vapours, and fills the atmos- 
phere with death. Fly, therefore, from idleness, as 
the certain parent both of guilt and ruin. And un- 
der idleness I include, not mere inaction only, but 
all that circle of trifling occupations, in which too 
many saunter away their youth ; perpetually enga- 
ged in frivolous society, or public amusements; in 
the labours of dress, or the ostentation of their per- 
sons. — Is this the foundation which you lay for fu- 
ture usefulness and esteem ? By such accomplish- 
ments do you hope to recommend yourselves to the 
thinking part of the world, and to answer the ex- 
pectations of your friends and your country? — 
Amusement youth requires : it were vain, it were 
cruel, to prohibit them. But, though allowable as 
the relaxation, they are most culpable as the busi- 
ness, of the young. For then they become the gulf 
o/ time, and the poison of the mind. They foment 
bad passions. They weaken the manly powers. 
They sink the native vigour of youth into contemp- 
tible effeminacy 

Unseasonable returns to the levity of youth, io be laid 
aside on assuming the character of manhood. 

To every tiling, says the wise man, there is a sga« 



ADVICE TO YOUTH. 241 

son; and a time to every purpose under heavea. 
As there are duties which belong to particular situ- 
ations of fortune, so there are duties also which re- 
sult from particular periods of human life. Hav- 
ing treated of the virtues which adorn youth, I now 
call your attention to those duties which respect 
manhood. I begin with observing, that the first 
duty of those who are become men is ■ to put away 
childish things.' — The season of youthful levities, 
follies, and passions, is now over. — These have had 
their reign ; a reign perhaps too long ; and to which 
a termination is certainly proper at last. Much in- 
dulgence is due to youth. Many things admit of 
an excuse then, which afterwards become unpar- 
donable. Some things may even be graceful in 
youth, which, if not criminal, are at least ridicu- 
lous, in persons of maturer years. It is a great tri- 
al of wisdom to make our retreat from youth w ith 
propriety ; to assume the character of manhood, 
without exposing ourselves to reproach, by an un- 
seasonable remainder of juvenility, on the one 
hand, or by precise and disgusting formality, on the 
other. Nature has placed certain boundaries, :by 
which she discriminates the pleasures, actions, and 
employments, that are suited to the different stages 
of human life. It becomes us, neither to overleap 
these boundaries, by a transition tooiiasty and vio- 
lent ; nor to hover too long on one side of the limit, 
when nature eails us to pass over to the other 

There are particularly two things in which mid- 
dle age should preserve its distinction and separa 
lion from youth ; these are levities of behaviour, 
and intemperate indulgence of pleasure. The gay 
spirits of the young often prompt an inconsiderate 
degree of levity, sometimes ami-using, sometimes o£ 



242 ADVICE TO YOUTH. 

fensive , but for which, though betraying them os 
casionally into serious dangers, their want of expe- 
rience may plead some excuse. A more composed 
and manly behaviour is expected in riper years. 
The affectation of youthful vanities degrades the 
dignity of manhood ; even renders its manners less 
agreeable ; and, by awkward attempts to please, 
produces contempt. Cheerfulness is becoming in? 
every age. But the proper cheerfulness of a man 
is as different from the levity of the boy, as the 
flight of the eagle is from the fluttering of a sparrow 
in the air- 
As all unseasonable returns to the levity of youth 
ought to be laid aside, — an admonition which 
equally belongs to both sexes, — still more are we to 
guard against those intemperate indulgences of 
pleasure, to which the young are unhappily prone. 
From these we cannot toe soon retreat. They 
open the path to ruin in every period of our days. 
As long, however, as these excesses are confined to> 
tfoe first stage of life, hope is left, that when this 
fever of the spirits shall abate, sobriety may gain 
the ascendant, and wiser counsels have power to 
influence conduct. But after the season of youth 
is past, if its intemperate spirit remains ; if, instead 
©f listening to the calls of honour, and bending at- 
tention to the cares and the business of men, the 
same course of idleness and sensuality continues to 
be pursued, the case becomes more desperate. A 
sad presumption arises, that long immaturity is to 
prevail;, and that the pleasures and passions of the 
youth are to sink and overwhelm the man. Diffi- 
cult, 1 confess, it may prove to overcome the at- 
tachments which youthful habits had for a long 
while been forming. Hard, at the beginning, is th% 



ADVICE TO YOUTH. 243 

task, to impose on our conduct restraints, which 
are altogether unaccustomed and new. But this is 
a trial which every one must undergo, in entering 
on new scenes of action, and new periods of life. 
Let those who are in this situation bethink them- 
selves, that all is now at stake. Their character 
and honour, their future fortune and success in the 
world, depend in a great measure on the steps they 
take, when first they appear on the stage of active 
life. The world then looks to them with an ob- 
serving eye. k studies their behaviour; and in- 
terprets all their motions, as the presages of the line 
of future conduct which they mean to hold. Now, 
' therefore, put away childish things;' dismiss your 
former trifling amusements, and youthful pleasures ; 
blast not the hopes which your friends are willing 
to conceive of you. Higher occupations, more se- 
rious cares, await you. 

The dangers which attend the period of middle age, 

But amidst all the bustle of the world, let us not 
forget to guard with vigilance against the peculiar 
dangers which attend the period of middle life. It 
is much to be regretted, that in the present state of 
things there is no period of man's age in which his 
virtue is not exposed to perils. Pleasure lays its 
snares for youth : and after the season of youthful 
follies is past, other temptations, no less formidable 
to virtue, presently arise. The love of pleasure is 
succeeded by the passion for interest. In this pas- 
sion the whole mind is too often absorbed ; and the 
change thereby induced on the character is of no 
amiable kind. Amidst the excess of youth, virtu- 
ous affections often remain. The attachments oi 
L2 



244 ADVICE TO YOUTH. 

friendship, the love of honour, and the warmth of 
sensibility, give a degree of lustre to the character, 
and cover many a failing. But interest, when it 
becomes the ruling principle, both debases the mind 
and hardens the heart. It deadens the feeling of 
every thing that is sublime or refined. It contracts 
the affections within a narrow circle ; and extin- 
guishes all those sparks of generosity and tender- 
ness whicrronce glowed in the breast. 

In proportion as worldly pursuits multiply, and 
competitions rise, ambition, jealousy and envy com- 
bine with interest to excite bad passions, and to in- 
crease the corruption of the heart. At first, per- 
haps, it was a man's intention to advance himself 
in tne woild by none but fair and laudable me- 
thods. He retained for some time an aversion to 
whatever appeared dishonourable. But here, he is 
encountered by the violence of an enemy. There, 
he* supplanted by the address of a rival. The 
pride of a superior insults him. The ingratitude 
of a friend provokes him. Animosities ruffle his 
temper. Suspicions poison his mind. He finds, or 
imagines that he finds, the artful and designing sur- 
rounding him on every hand. He views corrup- 
tion and iniquity prevailing; the modest neglected, 
the forward and the crafty rising to distinction. Too 
easily, from the example of others, he learns that 
mystery of vice, called the way of the world. "What 
he has learned, he fancies necessary to practise for 
his own defence ; and of course assumes that sup- 
ple and versatile character, which he observes to be 
frequent, and which often has appeared to him suc- 
cessful. 

To these, and many more dangers of the same 
kind, is the man exposed who is deeply engaged in 



ADVICE TO TOUTH. 245 

active life. No small degree of firmness in reli- 
gious principle, and of constancy in virtue, is re- 
quisite, in order to prevent his being assimilated to 
the spirit of the world, and carried away by 'mul- 
titude of evil doers.' Let him therefore call to 
mind those principles which ought to fortify him 
against such temptations to vice. Let him often 
recollect that, whatever his station in life may be, 
he is a man, he is a Christian. These are the chief 
characters which he has to support ; characters su- 
perior far, if they be supported with dignity, to any 
of the titles with which courts can decorate him ; 
superior to all that can be acquired in the strife of a 
busy world. Let him think, that though it may be 
desirable to increase his opulence, or to advance his 
rank, yet what he ought to hold much more sacred 
is, to maintain his integrity and honour. If these 
be forfeited, wealth or station will have few charms 
left. They will not be able to protect him long 
from sinking into contempt in the eye of an observ- 
ing world. Even to his own eye he will at last ap- 
pear base and wretched. — Let not, then, the affairs 
of the world entirely engross his time and thoughts. 
From that contagious air which he breathes, in the 
midst of it, let him sometimes retreat into the salu- 
tary shade, consecrated to devotion and to wisdom. 
There, conversing seriously with his own soul, and 
looking up to the Father of Spirits, let him study 
to calm those unquiet passions, and to rectify those 
internal disorders, which intercourse with the world 
had excited and increased 

On preparation for old age 
While we thus study to correct the errors, and to 



246 ADVICE TO YOUTH. 

provide against the dangers, which are peculiar to 
this stage of life, let us also lay foundation for com- 
fort in old age. That is a period which all expect 
and hope to see ; and to which, amidst the toils of 
the world,. men sometimes look forward, not with- 
out satisfaction, as to the period of retreat and rest. 
But let them not deceive themselves. A joyless 
and dreary season it will prove, if they arrive at it 
with an unimproved or corrupted mind. For old 
age, as for every other thing, a certain preparation 
is requisite : and that preparation consists chiefly 
in three particulars : in the acquisition of know- 
ledge, of friends, of virtue. There is an acquisition 
of another kind, of which it is altogether needless 
for me to give any recommendation, that of riches. 
But though this, by many, will be esteemed a more 
material acquisition than all three I have named, 
it may be confidently pronounced, that, without 
these other requisites, all the wealth we can lay up 
in store will prove insufficient for making our latter 
days pass smoothly away. 

First, he who wishes to render his old age com- 
fortable, should study betimes to enlarge and im- 
prove his mind ; and by inquiry, by reading and 
reflecting, to acquire a taste for useful knowledge. 
This will provide for him a great and noble enter- 
tainment when other entertainments leave him. If 
he bring into the solitary retreat of age a vacant 
uninformed mind, where no knowledge dawns, 
where no ideas rise, which has nothing to feed upon 
within itself, many a heavy and comfortless day he 
must necessarily pass. — Next, when a man declines 
into the vale of years, he depends more on the aid 
of his friends, than in any other period of his life. 
Then is the time, when he would especially wish 



ADVICE TO YOUTH. 247 

to find himself surrounded by some who love and 
respect him : who will bear with his infirmities, re- 
lieve him of his labours, and cheer him with their 
society. Let him therefore, now, in the summer of 
his days, while yet active and flourishing, by acts 
of seasonable kindness and beneficence, ensure that 
love, and by upright and honorable conduct lay 
foundation for that respect, which in old age he 
would wish to enjoy. In the last place, let him 
consider a good conscience, peace with God, and 
the hope of heaven, as the most effectual consola- 
tions he can possess, when the evil days shall come 
wherein, otherwise he is likely to find little plea- 
sure. It is not merely by transient acts of devotion 
that such consolations are to be provided. The 
regular tenor of a virtuous and pious life, spent in 
the faithful discharge of all the duties of our sta- 
tion, will prove the best preparation for old age, for 
death, and for immortality. 

The conclusion 

From the whole of what has been said, this im- 
portant instruction arises, that the happiness of 
every man depends more upon the state of his own 
mind, than upon any one external circumstance ; 
nay, more than all external things put together. We 
have seen, that inordinate passions are the great 
disturbers of life ; and that unless we possess a 
good conscience, and a well-governed mind, discon- 
tent will blast every enjoyment, and the highest 
prosperity will prove only, disguised misery. Fix 
then this conclusion in your minds, that the destruc- 
tion of your virtue is the destruction of your peace. 
* Keep thy heart with all diligence,' govern it with 



248 ADVICE TO YOUTH. 

the greatest care, ' for out of it are the issues of life. 
In no station, in no period, think yourselves secure 
from the dangers which spring from your passions. 
Every age, and every station, they beset ; from youth 
to grey hairi, and horn the peasant to the prince. 



ON 

HONOUR AS A FKQffCXPXiB. 

BY DR. JAMES FORDYCE. 



I conceive, gentlemen, that to preserve and che- 
rish the sense of truth, integrity and glory, which we 
have found interwoven with the human mind, is 
the main design of moral culture ; and that he will 
be the most estimable person in manhood, who is 
the least perverted from the ingenuity of youth ; 
who is constantly recurring to his earliest and ten- 
derest perceptions of virtue ; who, while * a man in 
understanding, is in malice a child,' who, with the 
improvements of reflection, and the acquisitions of 
experience, retains, as much as may be, that sim- 
plicity of soul, and that generosity of affect ion, 
which give such grace and sweetness to the bloom 
of life. 

Is it possible to think of those lovely qualities, 
and not sigh to see them so often defaced in the 
succeeding scenes ? Is it possible to contemplate 
the ruins of youthful excellence, and forbear to 
weep over them ? But whence, my brothers, this 
deplorable change ? From neglecting early to fix, 
and firmly to keep, that best and bravest of all re- 
solutions, which was formed by one of the most ce- 
lebrated persons of whom we have any record : — 
4 My heart shall not reproach me so long as I live.' 



250 ON HONOUR 

I will at no time, and in no situation, allow myself 
in that which I suspect to be wrong. In all seasons, 
and under all circumstances, I will endeavour to 
practise what I feel to be right. 

Many of you, I doubt not, will recollect those 
memorable words of the Man of Uz ; of that man 
whose unblemished and unalterable worth stands 
attested in a manner altogether extraordinary. The 
Almighty himself we find speaking of it in a style 
of exultation, if the phrase may be allowed ; for 
thus he is introduced addressing the enemy of all 
goodness, * Hast thou considered my servant Job, 
that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect 
and an upright man ? — and still he holds fast his 
integrity, although thou movest me against him to 
destroy him without cause.' The heaviest storm 
of affliction, that ever put human virtue to the proof, 
had not power to overthrow his. He might com- 
plain : it is permitted to nature. He could not 
plead an entire exemption from the frailties that 
will in some degree cleave to all her sons. How- 
ever the benignity of his Maker might pronounce 
him perfect, compared with other men, he was yc- 
far enough from justifying himself in the sight of 
Supreme rectitude. Those brighter discoveries 
which he had obtained of the All-perfect Being, 
threw h'm into the lowest prostrations of humility 
and penitence : but nevertheless they hindered him 
not from consoling himself under the weight of sor- 
row, and the severity of censure, by the conscious- 
ness of a behaviour which had upon the whole been 
singularly excellent and praise-worthy. Such in- 
deed it had proved, with an uniformity that stood 
the test of the most opposite conditions, and both 
in the extreme. 



AS A PRINCIPLE. 251 

Now what was it, think ye, next the influence of 
God, that could produce a conduct so superior, and 
so even, though thus tried? What other than the 
purest and noblest purpose deliberately weighed, 
and affectionately embraced, from the beginning ? 
At least you will acknowledge, that characters of 
transcendant and persevering value are not very of- 
ten formed in the advance of life, if the first pari 
of it was passed without principle, or any vigorous 
sentiments of probity and honour. Is it not then 
most likely, that this glorious man had taken up 
early the magnanimous resolve before mentioned ? 
1 My heart shall not reproach me,' that is, fGr any 
allowed transgressions or wilful neglect of its sacred 
dictates, * so long as I live. 1 

This, my friends, and this alone, we call the prin- 
ciple of honour, in the truly estimable, comprehen- 
sive, and elevated sense of the expression ; and we 
say, that the young man who sincerely adopts and 
steadily adheres to It, hi a humble but joyful reli- 
ance on Heaven, will seldom be at a loss about the 
path he is to pursue, will always have at hard an 
answer to temptation, and will be generally fcitified 
against those discouragements which might ether- 
wise overwhelm him. 

A youth entering the world may be compared to 
an unpractised traveller passing through a country, 
where he meets with a number of cross-roads not 
properly marked, which of course leave him uncer- 
tain about the right one, and, if he be not much en 
his guard, leads him away from it. Alas ! my bro- 
thers, in how many diifercnt directions may the 
young, the inexperienced, and the heedless, be 
trained on to destruction ! In just as many as there 
are irregular inclinations to prompt, worthless com 
17 



252 ON HONOUR 

panions to entice, and dangerous follies to ensnare 
them. To these we may add the strange diversi- 
ties of system, * and oppositions of science, falsely 
so called,' that divide and perplex mankind, in re- 
lation to the conduct which they should pursue. 
Let me explain myself on this last point. 

The opinions of the greater part, respecting the 
track they are to follow, may be chiefly ranted in 
two classes. On the one ham!, you find little else 
but ceremony without substance, spscuIs/,ion with- 
out practice, faith without works : a high flown or- 
thodoxy, which, if it dees not avowed!/ supercede 
the necessity of sound morals, takes, however, all 
occasions to undervalue theih ; and, in fine, a fiery 
zeal, which burns up every sentiment of modera- 
tion and charity. — On the other hand, you hear of 
honesty without piety, good nature without real 
principle, modern honour in place of old-fashioned 
virtue, or, at most, certain decencies of demeanour, 
that leave men at liberty to indulge the most crimi- 
nal dispositions, provided only that appearances 
are preserved. 

If you listen to the advocates for these several 
schemes, they would every one persuade you that 
they, and they only, are in the right; that such as 
differ from them are equally mistaken and miser- 
able ; in a word, that by espousing their party in 
preference to all the rest, you can alone insure fe- 
licity. This they maintain with as much positive- 
ness and vehemence as if truth and they were born 
together. From the narrowness and partiality which 
they all betray, it appears, indeed, that they are all 
erroneous ; yet none of them are without a multi- 
tude v of followers, each system being not only pro- 
pagated with a confidence that imposes, but also 



AS A PRINCIPLE 253 

adapted to smooth and screen the sinful propensities 
of men, while each seems to provide some kind of 
compensation : a circumstance which ought of it- 
self to render both suspected, for this obvious rea- 
son, that complying with one obligation can never 
be a just excuse for not complying with another. 
But what shall we say ? Youth is a stranger to sus- 
picion. * Pausing pale Distrust,' as the poet has 
beautifully described it, * the assistant of that slow 
mistress Experience,' is only to be found in the 
school of the world. Fond confiding youth, yet 
unacquainted with the perfidy and futility daily 
practised there, is forward to believe whatever is 
boldly asserted, especially if it leave a latitude, 
much more if it gives encouragement to the favour- 
ite desires of nature. 

But now suppose a young person hitherto uncor- 
rupted, modest, simple, possessed of the amiable 
dispositions which our Divine Master so much ad- 
mired and applauded in children : imagine him to 
hear those opposite schemes proposed and pressed 
with the usual eagerness : How shall he proceed ? 
What course shall he steer in this wide uncertain 
ocean of contending opinions ? 

There is but one safe course ; it is pointed out 
by the Hand that made him, and that sent him 
forth on the voyage of life : he finds it traced upon 
his heart ; his reason recognises and recommends 
it as the work of the Creator. * He hath showed 
thee, O man, what is good, and what thy Lord thy 
God requireth of thee ; to do justice, to love mercy, 
and to walk humbly with thy God.' Our ingenious 
inquirer listens to the voice of the Most High With- 
in him, as thus addressing his conscience : * Behold, I 
have placed thee in the mind of that youth, as iny 



254 ON HONOUR 

representative. Fail not to exert tny power, in 
blessing him with tranquility and joy, while he ct»r. 
tinues his allegiance : but should he rebel, give him 
to know that * it is an evil and a bitter thing/ by 
punishing him with dejection and disquietude. 
Follow him every where, and make him always 
sensible that his peace and welfare depends on the 
veneration he entertains for God's vicegerent 

Be not deceived, my young friends ; he who ulti- 
mately dreads any other censure than that of his 
own mind, or surrenders himself implicitly to anv 
other direction than that of the being who m;^ 
him, may be pronounced a slave, let him pretend 
to what freedom or dignity he will. He is driven 
on by pride, or vanity, or interest, or inclination ; 
by the fear of man, or the fashion of the day, or the 
caprice of the moment, or the opinion of his com- 
pany, or the tone of the crowd, which he is taught 
to regard as consonant to the rules of honour, if not 
actually prescribing them. But consider, I beseech 
you, how poor, and how precarious a conduct, to 
say no worse, that must be, which is actuated by 
principles so fantastic, because so variable in dif- 
ferent men, in different nations, in difieient ages; 
so blind in their origin, as proceeding from passion 
instead of reason ; and so uncertain in their effects, 
as depending solely on the casual influence of edu- 
cation, complexion, or situation, of governments, 
courts, or climates, or whatever other circumstance, 
alike accidental. Is it possible, that virtue can de- 
rive solidity or steadiness from such motives; or 
that any thinking man can leel security or satisfac- 
tion within, who, instead of faithfully observing 
the great unerring lines of duty marked out by an 
undepraved conscience, commits himself to the in- 



£S A PRINCIPLE. 255 

extricable maze of human folly ? No, Gentlemen, 
there is but one comprehensive, one obvious, one 
immutable rule of honour, which you can follow 
with safety, amidst the perilous, the changeable, the 
dubious, and the partial maxims on either side, that 
have been devised by self love, worldly policy, or 
false refinement. You have heard it already; but 
you cannot hear it too often ; it is the whole art of 
acting worthily, of acting nobly, comprised in a 
single short sentence ; Never, while you breathe, to 
offend deliberately the inward monitor — * My heart 
shall not reproach me so long as I lire,' 



TEN PRECEPTS 

GIVEN BY 

WILLIAM LORD BURGHLEY, 

LORD HIGH-TREASURER OF ENGLAND, 

TO HIS SON 
ROBERT CECIL, 

AFTERWARDS THE EARL OF SALISBURY. 



Son Robert, 
The virtuous inclination of thy matchless mo- 
ther, by whose tender and godly care thy infancy 
was governed, together with thy education under so 
zealous and excellent a tutor, puts me in rather as- 
surance than hope, that you are not ignorant of that 
summum bo7ium, which is only able to make thee 
happy as well in thy death as life ; I mean the true 
knowledge and worship of thy Creator and Re- 
deemer, without which all other things are vain and 
miserable : so that, thy youth being guided by so 
sufficient a teacher, I make no doubt but he will 
furnish thy life with divine and moral documents. 
Yet, that I may not cast off the care beseeming a 
parent towards his child, or that thou shouldest 
have cause to derive thy whole felicity and welfare 
rather from others than whence thou receivedst thy 
breath and being, I think it fit and agreeable to the 
affection I bear thee, to help thee with such rules 
and advertisements for the squaring of thy life, as 



LORD BURGKLEY»S TEN PRECEPTS. 257 

arc raihuf gamed by experience than by i.uicn read- 
ing ; to the end that, entering into this exorbitan- 
ce, thou mayest be the better prepared to shun 
those scandalous courses whereunto the world, and 
the lack of experience, may easily draw thee. And 
because I will not confound thy memory, I have re- 
fhu-.ed them into ten precepts ; and, next unto Mo- 
ses^ tables, if thou imprint them in thy mind, ftiou 
shalt reap the benefit, and I the content. And 
they are these following. 



When it shall please God to bring thee to man's 
estate, use great providence and circumspection in 
choosing thy wife ; for thence will spring all thy fu- 
ture good or evil : and it is an action of life, like 
unto a stratagem of war, wherein a man can err 
tut once. If thy estate be good, match near home 
«u-d at leisure ; if weak, far off and quickly. In- 
jure diligently of her disposition, and how her pa- 
rents have been inclined in their youth. Let her 
not be poor, how generous soever ; for a man can 
buy nothing in the market with gentility. Nor 
choose a base and uncomely creature altogether for 
wealth ; for it will cause contempt in others, and 
loathing in thee. Neither make choice of a dwarf 
or a fool ^ for by the one thou shah beget a race of 
pig-mies, the other will be thy continual disgrace ; 
send it will yerke thee to hear her talk: for thou 
shall find it to thy great grief, that there is nothing 
more fulsome than a she-fool. 

And, touching the guiding of thy house, let thy 
i>t'S»itality be moderate; and, according to the 
liira-.is of thy estate, rather plentiful than sparing, 



258 LORD BURGHLEY'S 

but not costly ; for I never knew any man grow 
poor by keeping an orderly table. But some con- 
sume themselves through secret vices, and their hos- 
pitality bears the blame. But banish swinish 
drunkards out of thine house, which is a vice im- 
pairing health, consuming much, and makes rn> 
show. I never heard praise ascribed to the drunk- 
ard, but for the well-bearing of his drink , which is 
a better commendation for a brewer's horse or a 
dray-man, than for either a gentleman or a serving 
man. Beware thou spend not above three or four 
p»i«ts of thy revenues, nor above a third part of that 
in thy house; for the other two parts will do no 
mor3 than defray the extraordinarics, which always 
surmount the ordinary by much : otherwise, thou 
shalt live, like a rich beggar, in continual want. 
And the needy man can never live happily nor conr 
tentodly ; for every disaster makes him ready to 
mortgage or sell ; and that gentleman who sells an 
acre of land, sells an ounce of credit : for gentility 
is nothing else but ancient riches ; so that if the 
foundation shall at any time sink, the building must 
need follow. — So much for the first precept. 

II. 

Bring thy children up in learning and obedience, 
yet without outward austerity. Praise them open- 
ly, reprehend them secretly. Give them good coun- 
tenance and convenient maintenance according to 
thy ability, otherwise thy life would seem their bon- 
dage ; and what portion thou shalt leave them nt 
thy d?«;h, : ihm will thank death for it, and not 
thee. And 1 ma psn^ided that the foolish cocker- 
ing of gome parents. m\d the over-stem carriage of 



TEN PRECEPTS. 259 

others, causeth more men and women to take Ml 
courses, than their own vicious inclinations. Mar- 
ry thy daughters in time, lest they marry them- 
selves. And suffer not thy sons to pass the Alps ; 
for they shall learn nothing there but pride, blas- 
phemy, and atheism : and if by travel they get a 
few broken languages, that shall profit them nothing 
more than to have one meat served in divers dish- 
es. Neither, by my consent, shalt thou train them 
up in wars ; for he that sets up his rest to live by 
that profession, can hardly be an honest man or a 
good Christian: beside, it is a science no longer in 
request than use ; for, soldiers in peace are like 
chimneys in summer. 

Ill 

Live not in the country without corn and cattle 
about thee ; for he that putteth his hand to the purse 
for every expense of household, is like him that 
keepeth water in a sieve : and what provision thou 
shalt want, learn to buy it at the best hand ; for 
there is one penny saved in four, betwixt buying in 
thy need, and when the markets and seasons serve 
fittest for it. Be not served with kinsmen or friends, 
or men entreated to stay ; for they expect much, 
and do little : nor with such as are amorous ; for 
their heads are intoxicated. And keep rather too 
few, than one too many. Feed them well, and pay 
them with the most ; and then thou mayest boldly 
reuuire service at their hands. 

IV. 

Let tbt kindred and allies be welcome to thy 
bouse anU table. Grace them with thy count*- 
M 



2G0 LORD BURGHLEY'S 

nance, and further them in all hottest actions ; for 
by these means thou shalt so double the band of 
nature, as thou shalt find them so many advocates 
to plead an apology for thee behind thy back. But 
shake off these glow-worms, I mean parasites and 
sycophants, who will feed and fawn upon thee in 
the summer of prosperity ; but, in the adverse 
storms, they will shelter thee no more than an ar- 
bour in winter 



Beware of suretyship for thy best friends. He 
that payeth another man's debts, seeketh his own 
decay. But if thou canst not otherwise choose, ra- 
ther lend thy money thyself upon good bonds, al- 
though thou borrow it; so shalt thou secure thyself 
and pleasure thy iriend. Neither borrow money of 
a neighbour or a friend, but of a stranger ; where, 
paying for it, thou shah hear no more of it ; other- 
wise thou shalt eclipse thy credit, lose thy freedom, 
and pay as dear as to another. But in borrowing 
of money, be precious of thy word ; for he that hath 
care of keeping days of payment, is lord cf an- 
other man's purse. 

VI. 

Undertake no suit against a poor man with re- 
ceiving much wrong; for, besides that thou makest 
him thy compeer, it is a base conquest to triumph 
where there is small resistance. Neither attempt 
law against any man before thou be fully resolved 
that thou hast right on thy side, and then spare not 
for either money or pains ; for, a cause or two so 



TEN RECEPTS 261 

followed and obtained will free thee from suits great 
part of thy life. 

VII 

Re sure to keep some great man thy friend ; but 
trouble him not for trifles. Compliment him often 
with many, yet small, gifts, and of little charge. 
And if thou hast cause to bestow any great gratui- 
ty, let it be something which may be daily in sight ; 
otherwise, in this ambitious age, thou shalt remain 
Juke a hop without a pole, live in obscurity, and be 
made a foot-ball for every insulting companion to 
spurn at. 

VIII. 

Towards thy superiors, be humble, yet generous; 
with thine equals, familiar, yet respective. To- 
wards thine inferiors show much humanity, and 
some familiarity; as to bow the body, stretch forth 
the hand, and to uncover the head, with such like 
popular compliments. The first prepares thy way 
to advancement: the second makes thee known for 
a man well-bred : the' third gains a good report, 
which, once got, is easily kept ; for right humanity 
takes such deep root in the minds of the multitude, 
as they are easilier gained by unprofitable courte- 
sies than by churlish benefits. Yet I advise thee 
not to effect or neglect popularity too much. Seek 
not to be Essex : shun to be Raleigh. 

IX. 

Trust not any man with thy life, credit, or es- 
tate ; for it is mere folly for a man to enthrall him- 
self to a friend, as though, occasion being offered, 
he should not dare to become thy enemy. 



262 LORD BURGHLEY'S TEN PRECEPTS. 
X. 

Be not scurrilous in conversation, nor satirical in 
thy jests ; the one will maks thee unwelcome to all 
company, the other pulls on quarrels, and gets the 
hatred of thy best friends ; for suspicious jests 
(when any of them savour of trufn) leave a bitter 
ness in the minds of those which are touched. And 
albeit 1 have already pointed at this inclusively, yet 
I think it necessary to leave it to thee as a special 
caution ; because I have seen many so prone to 
quip and gird, as they would rather lose their friend 
than their jest. And, il percnance their boiling 
bram yield a quaint scoft, they will travail to be de- 
livered of it as a woman with child. These nimble 
fancies are but the froth of wit. 



THS 

WAY TO WEALTH, 

WRITTEN BY 

DR. BEPfJAMIN FRANKLIN. 



Courteous Reader, 
I have heard that nothing gives an author sc 
great pleasure as to find his works respectfully quo- 
ted by others. Judge, then, how much I must have 
been gratified by an incident I am going to relate 
to you. I stopped my horse lately, where a great 
number of people were collected at an auction of 
merchants goods. The hour of sale not being 
come, they were conversing on the badness of the 
times; and one of the company called to a plain, 
clean, old man, with white locks, " Pray, Father 
Abraham, what think you of the times? Will not 
these heavy taxes quite ruin the country ? How 
shall we be ever able to pay them ? What would 
you advise us to ?" — Father Abraham stood up, and 
replied, " If you would have my advice, I will give 
it you in short ; for, a word to the wise is enough," 
as Poor Richard says. They joined in desiring 
him to speak his mind ; and gathering round him, 
he proceeded as follows :* 

* Dr. Franklin, wishing to collect into one piece all 
the sayings upon the following subjects, which he had 
dropped in the coarse of publishing the Almanack called 



2S4 THE WAY TO WEALTH. 

« Friend, 1 sa}-s he, * the taxes are indeed very 
heavy ; if those laid on by the government were 
the only ones we had to pay, we might more easily 
discharge them : but we have many others, and 
much more grievous to some of us. We are taxed 
twice as much by our idleness, three times as much 
by our pride, and four times as much by our folly • 
and from these taxes the commissioners cannot ease 
or deliver us, by allowing an abatement. How- 
ever, let ui hearken to good advice, and something - 
may be done for us : " God helps them that help 
themselves," as Poor Richard says. 

I. * It would be thought a hard government that 
should tax its people one-tenth part of their time to 
be employed in its service : but idleness taxes ma- 
ny of us much more : sloth, by bringing on diseases, 
absolutely shortens life. ** Sloth, like rust, con- 
sumes faster than labour wears, while the used key 
is always bright," as Poor Richard says. — " But 
dost thou love life ? then do not squander time, for 
that is the stuff life is made of," as Poor Richard 
says. How much more than is necessary do we 
spend in sleep; forgetting that, " The sleeping fox 
catches no poultry," and " there will be sleeping 
enough in the grave," as Poor Richard says. 

u If time be of all things the most precious, wast- 
ing time must be," as Poor Richard says, " the 

Poor Richard, introduced Father Abraham, for this pur- 
pose. Hence it is, that Poor Richard is so often quoted 
Notwithstanding the stroke of humonr in the concluding 
paragraph of this address, Poor Richard [Saunders] 
and Father Abraham have proved in America, that they 
are no common preachers. And shall we, brother Eng 
lishmen, refuse good sense and saving knowledge, be 
cause it comes from the other side of the water 1 



l HE WAY TO WEALTH 265 

greatest prodigality ;" since, as he elsewhere tells 
us, " Lost time is never found again ; and what we 
call time enough always proves little enough." 

* Let us then up and be doing, aiid doing to the 
purpose : so by diligence we shall do more with less 
perplexity. " Sloth makes all things difficult, but 
industry all easy ; and he that riseth late, must trot 
all day, and shall scarce overtake his business at 
night ; while laziness travels so slowly, that pover- 
ty soon overtakes him. Drive thy bu^pess, let not 
that drive thee ; and early to bed, and early to rise, 
makes a man healthy, wealth}', and wise," as Poor 
Richard says. 

* So what signifies wishing and hoping for better 
times ; we may make these times better, if we be- 
stir ourselves. " Industry need not wish ; and he 
that lives upon hope will die fasting. There are no 
gains without pains ; then help, hands, for I have 
no lands ;" or, if I have, they are smartly taxed. 
" He that hath a trade, hath an estate ; and he that 
hath a calling, hath an office of profit and honour," 
as Poor Richard says ; but then the trade must be 
worked at, and the calling well followed, or neither 
the estate nor the office will enable us to pay our 
taxes. If we are industrious we shall never starve ; 
for, "At the working man's hquse hunger looks in, 
but dares not enter." Nor will the bailiff or the 
constable enter ; for, '» Industry pays debts, while 
despair increaseth them." What though you have 
found no treasure, nor has any rich relation left 
you a legacy, " Diligence is the mother of good 
luck, and God gives all things to industiy. Then 
plough deep, while sluggards sleep, and you shall 
have eorn to sell and to keep." Work while it is 
called to-day, for you know not how much you 



266 THE WAF TO WEALTH. 

may be hindered to-morrow. " One to-day is worth 
two to-morrows/ as Poor Richard says ; and far- 
ther, u Never leave that till to-morrow, which you 
can do to-day." — If you were a servant, would you 
not be ashamed that a good master should catch 
you idle? Are you then your own master? Be 
ashamed to catch yourself idle, when there is so 
much to be done for yourself, your family, your 
country, and your king. Handle your tools with- 
out mittens ; remember, that, " The cat in gloves 
catches no mice," as Poor Richard says. It is true 
there is much to be done, and, perhaps, you are 
weak handed; but stick to it stead}'-, and you will 
see great effects ; for " Constant dropping wears 
away stones; and, by diligence and patience, the 
mouse ate in two the cable; and little strokes fell 
great oaks." 

* Methinks I hear some of you say, " Must a 
man afford himself no leisure ?" I will tell thee, 
my friend, what Poor Richard says : " Employ thy 
time well, if thou meanest to gain leisure ; and, 
since thou art not sure of a minute, throw not away 
an hour." Leisure is time for doing something 
useful ; this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but 
the lazy never ; for, " A life of leisure and a life of 
1; ;ss are two things." Many without labour 
wbHkf live by their wits only, but they break for 
want of stock; whereas industry gives comfort, and 
plenty, and respect. " Fly pleasures, and they 
will follow you. The diligent spinner has a large 
shift ; and, now 1 have a sheep and a cow, every 
body bids me good-morrow." 

II. But with our industry we must likewise be 
sieadv settled, and careful, and oversee our own 



THE WAY TO WEALTH. 267 

affairs with our own eyes, and not trust too much 
t© others ; for, as Poor Richard says. 

" I never saw an oft-removed tree, 
Nor yet an oft-removed family, 
That throve so well as those that settled oe. w 

* And again, " Three removes are as bad as a 
fire ;" and again, " Keep thy shop, and thy shop 
will keep thee ;" and again, " If you would have 
your business done, go ; if not, send." And again,, 

"He that by the plough would thrive, 
Himself must either hold or drive." 

* And again, " The eye of the master will do more 
work than both his hands ;" and again, " Want 
©f care does us more damage than the want of 
knowledge ;" and again, " Not to oversee work- 
men, is to leave them your purse open." Trusting 
too much to others' care is the ruin of many ; for, 
in the affairs of this world, men are not saved by 
faith, but by the want of it : but a man's own care 
is profitable ; for, " If you would have a faithful 
servant, and one that you like, serve yourself: a 
little neglect may breed great mischief: for want of 
a nail the shoe was lost ; for want of a shoe, the 
horse was lost ; and for want of a horse, the xid' 
was lost," being overtaken and slain by the ene; 
all for want of a little care about a horse-shoe nail. 

III. ' So much for industry, my friends, and at- 
tention to one's own business : but to these we must 
add frugality, if we would make our industry more 
certainly successful. A man may, if he knows not 
how to save as he gets, " keep his nose all his life to 
the grindstone, and die not worth a groat at last. 
A fat kitchen makes a lean will." 
18 M2 



2£2 THE WAY TO WEALTH. 

" Many estates are spent in getting, 
Sioce women for tea forsook spinning and knitting, 
And men for punch forsook hewing and splitting.'* 

"If you would be wealthy, think of saving as 
well as of getting. The Indies have not made Spain 
rich* because her out-goes are greater than her in- 
comes.'* 

4 Away, then, with your expensive follies, and 
tou will not then have so much reason to complain 
©f hard times, heavy taxes, and chargeable fami- 
lies; for, 

♦♦Women and wine, game and deceit, 
Make the wealth small and the want great. 1 ' 

And farther, " What maintains one vice would 
bring up two children." You may think, perhaps, 
that a little tea, or a little punch now and then, diet 
a little more costly, clothes a little finer, and a little 
entertainment now and then, can be no great mat 
ter ; but remember, " Many a little makes a mickle:" 
beware of little expenses ; " a small leak will sink a 
great ship," as Poor Richard says; and again, 
" Who dainties love, shall beggars prove ;" and 
moreover, " Fools make feasts, and wise men eat 
them." Here you are all got together to this sale 
of fineries and nicknacks. You call them goods ; 
but, if you do not take care, they will prove evils to 
some of you. You expect they will be sold cheap, 
and perhaps they may for less than tney cost ; but 
if you have no occasion for them, they must be 
dear to you. Remember what Poor Richard says, 
" Buy what thou hast no need of, and ere long thou 
shalt sell thy necessaries." And again, " At a great 
pcnt»y-worth pause a while." He means, that per- 
haps the cheapness is apparent only, and not real ; 



THE WAY TO WEALTH. 269 

or the bargain, by straitening thee in thy. business, 
may do thee moie harm than good. For in another 
place he says, " Many have been ruined by buy- 
ing good penny-worths." Again, " It is foolish to 
lay out money in a purchase of repentance ;" and 
yet this folly is practised every day at auctions, for 
want of minding the Almanack. Many a one, for 
the sake of finery on the back, has gone with a 
hungry belly, and half-starved their families ; 
" Silks and satins, scarlets and velvets, put out the 
kitchen fire," as Poor Richard says. These are not 
the necessaries of life, they can scarcely be called 
the conveniences ; and yet, only because they look 
pretty, how many want to have them ! By these 
and other extravagances, the genteel are reduced to 
poverty, and forced to borrow of those whom they 
formerly despised, but who, through industry and 
frugality, have maintained their standing ; in which 
case it appears plainly, that " A ploughman on his 
legs is higher than a gentleman on his knees," as 
Poor Richard says. Perhaps they have had a small 
estate left them, which they knew not the getting 
of; they think, " It is day, and will never be night ;" 
that a little to be spent out of so much is not worth 
minding ; but " Always taking out of the meal-tub, 
and never putting in, soon comes to the bottom," as 
Poor Richard says ; and then, " When the well is 
dry, they know the worth of water." But this they 
might have known before, if they had taken his ad* 
vice ; " If you would know the value of money, go 
and try to borrow some ; for he that goes a borrow- 
ing goes a sorrowing," as Poor Richard says ; and, 
indeed, so does he that lends to such people, when 
he goes to get it in again. Poor Dick farther advi- 
ses and says 



270 THE WAY TO WEALTH. 

11 Fond pride of dress is sure a very curse ; 
Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse." 

* And again. " Pride is as loud a beggar as want, 
and a great deal more saucy." When you have 
bought one fine thing, you must buy ten more, that 
your appearance may be all of a piece ; but Poor 
Dick says, " It is easier to suppress the first desire, 
than to satisfy all that follow it ;" and it is as truly 
folly for the poor to ape the rich, as for the frog to 
swell, in order to equal the ox. 

" Vessels large may venture more, 
But little boats should keep near shore/* 

« It is, however, a folly soon punished : for, as 
Poor Richard says, " Pride that dines on vanity, 
sups on contempt : — Pride breakfasted with Plenty, 
dined with Poverty, and supped with Infamy." 
And after all, of what use is this pride of appear- 
ance, for which so much is risked, so much is suf- 
fered ? It cannot promote health, nor ease pain • 
it makes no increase of merit in the person ; it cre- 
ates envy, it hastens misfortune. 

* But what madness must it be to run in debt for 
these superfluities? We are offered, by the terms 
of this sale, six months credit ; and that, perhaps, 
has induced some of us to attend it, because we 
cannot spare the ready money, and hope now to be 
fine without. But, ah !' think what you do when 
you run in debt ; you give another power over youi 
liberty ; if you cannot pay at the time, you will be 
ashamed to see your creditor; you will be in fear 
when you speak to him ; you will make poor piti- 
ful sneaking excuses, and by degrees come to lose 
your veracity, and sink into base downright lying ; 
for, " The second vice is lying, the first is running 



THE WAY TO WEALTH. 271 

in debt," as Poor Richard says ; and again to the 
same purpose, " Lying rides upon Debt's back :" 
whereas, a free-born Englishman ought not to be 
ashamed or afraid to see or speak to any man liv- 
ing. But poverty often deprives a man of all spirit 
and virtue. " It is hard for an empty bag to stand 
upright." What would you think of that prince, 01 
of that government, who should issue an edict for- 
bidding you to dress like a gentleman or gentlewo- 
man on pain of imprisonment or servitude ? Would 
you not say that you were free, have a right to dress 
as you please, and that such an edict would be a 
breach of your privileges, and such a government 
tyrannical ? And yet you are about to put your- 
self under that tyranny, when you run in debt for 
such dress ? Your creditor has authority, at his 
pleasure, to deprive you of your liberty, by confi- 
ning you in jail for life, or by selling you for a ser- 
vant, if you should not be able to pay him. When 
you have got your bargain, you may, perhaps, think 
little of payment ; but, as Poor Richard says, " Cre- 
ditors have better memories than debtors ; credi- 
tors are a superstitious sect, great observers of set 
days and times." The day comes round before 
you are aware, and the demand is made before you 
are prepared to satisfy it : or, if you bear your 
debt in mind, the term, which at first seemed so 
long, will, as it lessens, appear extremely short. 
Time will seem to have added wings to his heels as 
well as his shoulders. " Those have a short Lent, 
who owe money to be paid at Easter." At pre- 
sent, perhaps, you may think yourselves in thri- 
ving circumstances, and that you can bear a little 
•xtravagan«e without injury ; but 



272 THE WAY TO WEAL'i H. 

" For age and want save while you may 
No morning sun lasts a whole day." 

* Gain may be temporary and uncertain, but, ever 
while you live, expense is constant and certain ; 
and, " It is easier to build two chimneys, than 
to keep one in fuel," as Poor Richard says; so, 
" Rather go to bed supperless, than rise in debt." 

" Get what you can, and what you get hold, 
'Tis the atone that will turn all your lead into gold. 

* And, when you have got the philosopher's stone, 
sure you will no longer complain of bad times or 
the difficulty of paying taxes. 

IV. * This doctrine, my friends, is reason and 
wisdom. But after all, do not depend too much 
upon your own industry, and frugality, and pru- 
dence, though excellent things ; for they may be all 
blasted, without the blessing of Heaven ; and, there- 
fore, ask that blessing humbly, and be not unchari- 
table to those that at present seem to want it, but 
comfort and help them. Remember Job suffered, 
and was afterwards prosperous. 

1 And now to conclude, " Experience keeps a 
dear school, but fools will learn in no other," as 
Poor Richard says, and scarcely in that ; for, it is 
true, " We may give advice, but we cannot give 
conduct :" However, remember this, " They that 
will not be counselled cannot be helped !" and far- 
ther, that, " If you will not hear Reason, she will 
surely rap your knuckles," as Poor Richard says.* 

Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. 
The people heard it, and approved the doctrine,— 
and immediately practised the contrary, just as if 
it had been a common sermon; for the auction 



THE WAY TO WEALTH. 273 

opened, and they began to buy extravagantly. — 1 
found the good man had thoroughly studied my Al- 
manacks, and digested all I had dropped on these 
topics during the course of twenty-five years. The 
frequent mention he made of me must have tired 
any one else ; but my vanity was wonderfully de- 
lighted with it, though I was conscious, that not a 
tenth part of the wisdom was my own, which he 
ascribed to me ; but rather the gleanings that I had 
made of the sense of all ages and nations. How- 
ever, I resolved to be the better for the echo of it ; 
and, though I had at first determined to buy stuff 
for a new coat, I went away resolved to wear my 
old one a little longer. Reader, if thou wilt do the 
same, thy profit will be as great as mine. 

[ am, as ever, 

Thine to serve thee, 

ftfCHARD SAUNDERS. 



THE 

UXOVERSAX. PRAYER. 

BY A. POPE, ESQ. 



FATHER of all ! in ev'ry age, 

In ev'ry clime ador'd, 
By saint, by savage, and by sage^ 

Jehovah, Jove, or Lord. 

Thou great first cause, least understood^ 

Who all my sense confin'd 
To know but this, — that Thou art good: 

And that myself am blind. 

Yet gave me, in this dark estate 

To see the good from ill ; 
And binding nature fast in fate, 

Left free the human will. 

What conscience dictates to be done, 

Or warns me not to do, 
This, teach me more than hell to shun, 

That, more than heav'n pursue. 

What blessings thy free bounty gives, 

Let me not cast away ; 
For God is paid when man receives, 

T' enjoy is to obey. 

Yet not to earth's contracted span 
Thy goodness let me bound, 

Or think thee Lord alone of man, 
When thousand worlds are round. 



THE UiNIVERSAL PRAYER. 275 

Let not this weak unknowing hand, 

Presume thy bolts to throw. 
Or deal damnation round the land* 

On each I judge thy foe. 

If I am right, O teach my heart 

Still in the right to stay , 
If I am wrong, thy grace impart 

To find the better way. 

Save me alike from foolish pride 

Or impious discontent, 
At ought thy wisdom has deny'd 

Or ought thy goodness lent. 

Teach me to feel another's woe, 

To hide the faults I see ! 
The mercy I to others show, 

That mercy show to me. 

Mean though I am, not wholly so, 

Since quicken'd by thy breath 
O lead me wheresoe'r I go, 

Through this day's life or death. 

This day be bread and peace my lot i 

All else beneath the sun 
Thou know'et if best bestow'd or not 

And let thy will be done. 

To Thee, whose temper is all space, 

Whose altar — earth, sea, skies ; 
One chorus let all beings raise ; 

All nature's incense rise. 



THE ENp. 



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